PR 4859 
I .K5 M3 
i 1839 

icopy 1 



THE 

MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 



MonQgruuli 



L 



gurnet's Bvamatfc Sffaavj?. g,TVg«4 7 1 
THE 

MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 



BY J. SHERIDAN KNOWLES, ESQ. 

^Mi7ior 0/ Me "Hunchback," "Virginius," "Wm Tell," 
"Woman's Wit," "Love Chase," "TheWife," $c. Sfc. 



CORRECTLY PRINTED FROM THE MOST APPROVED 
ACTING COPY, 

WITH A DESCRIPTION OF THE COSTUME, CAST OP THE CHARAC- 
TERS, ENTRANCES AND EXITS, RELATIVE POSITIONS, AND 
THE WHOLE OF THE STAGE BUSINESS J 
To which are added, 
PROPERTIES AND DIRECTIONS, AS NOW PERFORMED IN THE 

PRINCIPAL THEATRES. 



$&naTietyi)fa : 
TURNER & FISHER, 11 NORTH SIXTH STREET. 

TURNER & FISHER, 52 CHATHAM STREET. 



c I % 3 <\ ? 3 



PR 4-25^ 

.Ksm 



Exchange 
Lib. of the Unl .of ?;, c. 
May 25, 1937 



DEDICATION. 

9th October, 1838. 
My Dear Sir, 

Permit me to inscribe this Drama to the man, whose 
spontaneous good offices of anxious confiding friendship 
have essentially facilitated the prosecution of my literary 
labours, during a period a protracted period of peculiar diffi- 
culty. 

Your attached and faithful servant, 
J. S. KNOWLES. 

To Edward Cooper, Esq. 
33. Piccadilly 



A* 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



To Miss Porter's novel of "The Village of Mariendorpt" 
I am indebted for the plot of this drama. She will excuse, 
I trust, modification and omissions, which my peculiar craft 
rendered, as I conceived, indispensable ; and, at the same 
time accept my thanks, for many an hour of delightful in- 
structive beguilement derived from the perusal of her 
works. 



DRAMATIS PERSON M» 





Sioitirotr. 


General Kleiner, (Governor of Prague,)Wr. Strickland. 


Baron Idenstein, (his Nephew,) 


" Walter Lacy. 


Lieutenant of the Castle, 


" Bishop. 


Joseph, (a Jew, friend to Muhldenau,) 


" Webster. 


Ahab, (his steward,) 


" Gough. 


Muhldenau, (the Minister of Marien- 
dorpt,) 


" Knowles. 


Rupert, (betrothed to Meeta,) 


" Warrel. 


Hans, (Servant to Muhldenau,) 


" Buckstone. 


Rudolph 1 


" Gallot. 


Gerold > Soldiers. 


" Hutchings. 


Lodowick j 


" Green. 


Courier, 


" Clark. 


Servant, 





Adolpha, (wife of Idenstein,) Miss Cooper. 

Madame Roselheim, (Mother of Rupert)Mrs. Dawson. 
Meeta, (daughter to Muhldenau,) Miss Ephinstone. 

Esther, (housekeeper to Muhldenau,) Mrs. Glover. 

Soldiers, Male and Female Servants, fyc. 



THE 

JUAIO OF Ml^IEi^BORPT, 



ACT I. 

SCENE I. — A Garden, low garden wall, and a House _ 

Enter a Courier. 

Courier. Hoa, there ! You in the garden there ! 
Hang, {without.) Anan ! [Enters. 

Good day, Sir. A fine morning-. Did you call ? 

Esther ! Esther ! 
Courier. Who lives here ? 
Hans. My master. 

Courier. That know I well as you do ! Do you think 

1 took you for the owner of the house ? 
Hans. I never said you did. O Esther ! 
Courier. Who 

Lives here ? 

Hans. My master, as I said before. 

Courier. You sluggish-witted knave ! I want to know 
Your master's name. 

Hans. Couldn't you tell me so 
At once ? What need of going- round about, 
The gate before your nose ? Why give you talk, 
And call you names, when all the fault's your own 1 
How could I guess it was my master's name 
You wished to know — O Esther ! 

Courier. Who lives here ? 

Hans. The minister of Mariendorpt. 

Courier. Is that 
Thy master's name ? 

Hans. Why 'tis all one. His name 
Is Muhldenau, and he's the minister 
Of Mariendorpt. 



10 MAID OP MARIENDORPT. 

Courier. Is that the only door 
To the house ? 

Hans. Go round, you'll find another door, 
The proper one — O Esther! 

Courier. This way ? 

Hans. Yes. 

Courier. I'd like to have the quickening of thy wits ! 

Esther, (without) What does that coxcomb speaking there 
so high ? 

Hans. There's Esther coming ! You had best be off! 

Courier. Hang you and her together ! [Goes out. 

Hans. That is kind. 
I would not mind to hang along with her ! 
I'm sick for love ! I'm sure I am ! I have lost 
My appetite ! My stomach was my clock 
That used to give me note of eating-time — 
It never warns me now ! A smoking dish 
Was sure to set my heart a-beating once ; 
Now be it flesh, or fish, or foul or aught, 
It moves me nothing. I would rather feast — 
A thousand times I would — on Esther's face ! 
I'm mortal sick for love ! I used to sleep ; 
Scarce touched my head my pillow, I was off, 
And, let me lie, I took my measure on't 
Six hours, at least, upon a stretch ! but now 
I toss and turn, lie straight, or doubled up, 
Enfold mine arms, or throw them wide abroad, 
Rhyme o'er my prayers, or count a hundred out, 
And then begin again — yet not a wink 
The richer for't, but rise as I lie down ! 
And 'tis true love that ails me ! very love ! 
Of womankind but one can work my cure ! 
'Tis not as one my fancy veal, and yet 
Put up with mutton ! If I get not her, 
I starve and die ! How I do love thee, Esther ! 
But thou regard'st it not, nor pay'st it heed : 
Thou ratest me as nothing ; but I'm something, 
Or never had I fallen in love with thee. 
Nor durst I tell thee how I love thee, Esther ! 
O ! my fair Esther ! O ! my goddess, Esther ! 
My lily, pink, rose, tulip, everything 
That's beautiful and sweet ! — would thou wast by 
To hear the love names I'm calling thee ! 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 11 

Esther enters, speaking angrily, holding some roots, 

Esther. Hoa, sirrah Hans ! Is this your work ? 
Hans. Dear Esther ! 
Esther, I can bear anything except 
Your anger ! labour without wages ? — work 
From morn till night — go without breakfast, dinner, 
Or supper — suffer aught, yet be a man ! 
But when you rate me I'm good for nothing ! — 
A joint that's pick'd to the bone — fish, three days stale — 
Wine gone a month without the stopper — cheese 
Scoop'd to the rind and kept in a hot pantry, 
Or foot of capon only with the strings 
Raked from the garbage where 't has lain a week, 
Don't scold me then — in sooth you should not do't, 
For never say I unkind word to thee, 
But call thee still all sorts of loving names. 

Esther. You've spoil'd my garden ! hoe'd my tulips up 
Instead of weeds — you have — 

Hans. Don't stamp at me, 
It makes my heart jump — Ah ! — 'Twas kind of you 
To stop ! But knew she how I loved her foot, 
She would not stamp it at me. 
Esther. Why do you touch 
My garden ? 

Hans. 'Tis to make it orderly ; 
Keep the earth smooth, and rake it as small as crumbs J 
Prop the tall flowers with standards; clear the beds 
Of chick-weed, grass, and thievish dandelion, 
That sucks up all the nourishment around it ; 
Trim the box edges straight and of a piece, 
And roll the gravel walks till they are even 
And smooth as any carpet. 

Esther. Would your pains 
Would spare themselves ! The other day you broke 
My finest rose. 

Hans. It was with kissing it ! 
It was indeed your finest rose, and so 
I call'd it Esther, and in very truth 
Made love to it, and in my rapture broke it I 
O Esther, if you knew — 
Esther. Knew what ? 



12 MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 

Hans. Nay, nothing. 
You take me up so snappishly ! I am sure 
I bear you much good will — I say but good 
Because I am afraid to tell you what 
I bear you ; and when you intreat me harshly 
I can't endure it, but it brings my heart 
Into my throat, that I begin to choke, 
And then I fall a crying. Don't you see 
I'm crying now — and wiping of my eyes ? 
Esther. A fly has got into them. 
Hans. Do you say 
A fly ? I would it were so small a thing I 
I would it were a gnat, a wasp, a hornet— ~ 
Better be stung by anything than Esther. 
A fly indeed i I would it were a fly — 
It was no fly ! O Esther, if you knew ! 

Esther. Knew what ? What dost thou mean ? 

Hans. Alack-aday ! 

Esther. Go clean the knives and forks ! — (Stamping at 

him.) 
Hans. They are made of steel, 
And steel is hard, and, if it is, no wonder. 
'Tis steel — and 'tis its nature ! 'Tis not so 
With human hearts, for they are flesh and blood, 
Whereof was never made, nor will be made, 
Nor can be made, a knife and fork, and yet 
No steel at times is harder ! 'Tis a pity. 
Esther. Is all that silver cleaned ? 
\Hans. How sweet a sound 
Has silver ! Yet 'tis heat proof. Without fear 
You dip it in a pot of boiling broth, 
Which you can not the tongue, and yet how harsh 
The tongue will sometimes sound ! 

Esther, (stamping.) Have you your wits ? 
Hans. Yes !— No ! — I only have a part of them. 
I'll tell you where the other part is gone 
If you will let me ! 
Esther. Well, sir? 
Hans. If you knewr— 

Esther, (stamping more violently.) Begone, I'll never 
know ! — (Hans goes out.) — What does he mean ? 
The creature's not in love with me ? Ne'er yet 



MAID OF MAR.IENDORPT. 13 

Met I the man was bold enough to woo me, 

And that among bold men — and would he try, 

Whom nature by mistake did frame a man, 

And gave a chicken's heart to? I should like 

To see him woo me ! Why I have ta'en his part, 

As doth a mother her girl-petted boy's 

A thousand times — >saved him from kicks and beatings-^- 

Fought Jbv him while he has stood by and crow'd 

To see me win his battle " If I knew !" 

I half suspect the thing's in love with me ! 

And, now I think on't, for this month or two 

The boy is alter'd wond'rously ! He sighs, 

And sighs !— and mumbles to himself, and goes 

Moping about the house. Sure as I live, 

The boy's in love, and I'm to have a husband I 

I, to whom man durst never say a soft thing 

The second time I A husband ! I shall dio 

At the thought, (laughs.) Make Hans my husband (laughs. 

then the end 
O' th' world were come, (laughs,) O dear ! my sides wil 

crack 
With laughter ! Esther go to church with Hans ! 
Take oath to love, to honour, and obey him ! (laughs,) 
Yes, with a curtsey ! and then take him home 
In my apron ! Esther become wife to Hans ! (laughs.) 
Hans husband uato Esther! (laughs.) Husband ! (laughs.) 

Husband ! 

Enter Madame Roselheim. 

Madame Roselheim. Why, Esther, what's the matter? 

Esther, (still laughing.) I'm laughing ! 

Madame Roselheim. I see you are. What makes you 
laugh? 

Esther, (laughing.) A thought 
That came into my head. 

Madame Roselheim. Dismiss it then — 
Behoves you to be busy with grave matters. 
Your master leaves us. He is summon'd hence 
By sudden requisition of high duty. 

Esther- How soon? 

Madame Roselheim. At once. Prepare for his departure. 

Esther. Goes Meeta with him? 



14 JMfAIO OF MARlEtfDOfttfT. 

Madame Roselheim. No, nor any one. 
A secret mission takes him for the service 
Of her, the Royal dame, who was his mistress, 

Esther. And how will Meeta bear it ? 

Madame Roselheim. As she ought. 
Meeta knows nothing paramount to duty. 

Esther. And this to fall upon the very eve 
Of her wedding. Will it stop it ? 

Madame Roselheim. I don't know. 

Esther. I hope it will not ; I have fear of crosses 
In all such matters. 

Madame Roselheim. Thinkest thou of weddings ? 

Esther, {stifling a laugh.) Madam ! 

Madame Roselheim. Why, Esther, what's the matter 
with you ? 

Esther. Nothing! — That is — Unless I laugh I'll die! 
(Goes out, laughing immoderately.) 

Madame Roselheim.. What's come to her? 'Tis not hec 
mood to laugh — 
At such a time, too. But I have not thought 
To waste on her. A dangerous mission this — 
A search unauthorized ; and that, with foes 
On every side of him. The reverend man 
For duty puts his life in jeopardy, 
Nor pauses, but as soon as call'd obeys. 
His daughter on the eve of marriage too, 
As Esther said — her bridegroom daily looked for, 
My son, my Rupert — fit to mate a princess, 
But yet more fitly with sweet Meeta match'd, 
In virtue without peer ! Will he postpone 
Their nuptials? No, he will net, if I know him. 
But whatsoever he resolves is wise ; 
For piety is still the good man's law. [Goes out. 

SCENE II. — A room in Muhldenau's house. 

Enter Muhldenau. 

Muhldenau. Meeta ! I thought she was alone with me : 
No wonder if the news transfixes her 
With deep abstraction, newly told ; when I, 
Already in possession on't, alike 
Forget myself! Why, Meeta ! Conic, my child. 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 

Enter Meeta. 

Meeta. And must you go ? 

Muhldenau. The voice that calls me hence 
I never disobey'd — durst disobey ! 
Thou art here in safety. This, thy father's will, 
From want assures thee — leaves thee heir indeed 
To rnpdest competence. Thy nuptials too, 
Which, for this chance I would not have postponed, 
Give thee a father in a husband. Thus 
Absolved from care on thy account, I go; 
For thou art good, my child, and hast beside 
A Father whom thou lovest to obey, 
With power no less than will to guard his child, 
That trusts in him — in every place at hand, 
At every hour — the Father of thy father ! 
In whose strong hands, and pitiful as strong, 
I leave thee, saying, M Let his will be done t" 

Meeta. Will you be long away? 

Muhldenau. Not long, I hope — 
Not very long. What call you long, my child ? 
A year ? 

Meeta. O, not a year ! 

Muhldenau. No! no! No fear 
Of that. — No, certainly I shall not be 
A year away. 

Meeta. Not half a year? 

Muhldenau. Not half 
A year. 

Meeta. Half that? 

Muhldenau. I know not, but should think 
A lapse more brief should bring me home again. 

Meeta. Perhaps a month ? 

Muhldenau. Perhaps ; but graver things 
Lie in the hands of seconds. Yea, a second 
Might balk departure, yet remove me from thee, 
Never again to meet thee — in this world — 
In this world, Meeta ! so, think less of absence, 
That here hath termination. 

Meeta. Is the mission 
That takes you, dangerous ? 

Muhldenau. I'll not deceive you ; 
It is. 



IS 



16 



MAID OP MARIENDORPT. 



Meeta. Sweet Heaven have mercy ! 
Muhldenau. It is well 
To call for that — but better 'tis to know 
That what Heaven wills is right ! — Believe in that, 
Thou'lt find it in the end to thy account. 
But what is danger ? Is't always the thing 
We call so? Sin is danger, certainly. 
Putting in jeopardy man's proper life, 
The fife to come ! — but what is danger else? 
Tis hard to say ! Of this, howe'er, be sure, 
More oft it wears a smooth face than a rough, 
So for the most part found when least expected, 
And fatalest ! The storms that are foretold 
Are easiest met — the reefs avoided 
That raise the ripple ! He did not feast that night 
Who saw the writing, to the prophet's mind 
Explain'd alone, although reveal'd to all ; 
And while the impious revel yet. held on, 
The flood did turn its wave, to let the surge 
Of battle in, and ruin overthrew 
Him and his kingdom ! Hear me, Meeta ; glad 
This summons makes me, tho' it threatens danger ; 
And, for I know that it will hearten thee 
To bear my absence, I will tell thee why. 
Sit down, my child. Thou hast a sister, Meeta. 

Meeta. A sister ? 

Muhldenau I have kept the knowledge from thee, 
To save the questioning had follow'd it, 
And could not be replied to without cost 
Of suffering, while recollection of 
Bereavement yet was young. 

Meeta. I had a sister ? 

Muhldenau. You had a sister* 

Meeta. Had? 

Muhldenau. Had, Meeta. 

Meeta. Had! 
Alas ! was I so rich, and knew it not ? 
I had a sister ! O what light and warmth 
Of love, I never knew before, the thought 
Hath shot into my soul ! — And now — and now, 
All's strangely dark and cold ! How is it, father, 
I had a sister, and remember not ? 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 17 

Muhldenau. Because 'twas in thy childhood, Meeta, 
when 
The memory, too tender, yields impressions 
Their causes ta'en away. — And yet there was 
A time thou didst remember such a thing ! 

Meeta. Was there ? O heartless Meeta '.Once remember 
She had a sister, and forget it ever ! 

Muhldenau. Thou hast forgot the siege of Magdeburgh. 

Meeta. No ! I remember that ! I never hear 
The thunder, but, I think of that ! — or see 
The lightning set the sky on fire, but that 
Comes back to me ! — No ! — no! — I recollect 
The siege of Magdeburgh ! 

Muhldenau. How long did it last ? 

Meeta. One night. 

Muhldenau. Three months! 

Meeta. I only recollect 
One night — and it was in the street, and men 
With horrid looks and yells ran to and fro ! 
On horseback some, and some on foot — some firing, 
And some with swords which they did whirl and dart 
A they moved on. 

Muhldenau. Ay ! mercy shewed they not 
That night to man or woman ! 

Meeta. Woman ? No ! 
I saw them seize one by the hair ! — I am sure 
I did! 

Muhldenau. You did — you told me so yourself. 

Meeta. I told you so myself? 

Muhldenau. You have forgot! 
And can you wonder ? You were barely then 
Turned five years old. Were you not near that woman ? ' 

Meeta. Yes! close to her! I had a hold of her. 

Muhldenau. That too you told me. Do you not remember? 

Meeta. No. 

Muhldenau. No ! — Not when I found thee in the street 
Wandering alone, and 'twixt thy sobbings, on 
Thy father calling ? 

Meeta. No. 

Muhldenau. Thou told'st it me 
The following day, and often afterwards, 
I let the fruitless inquisition drop, 

B* 



18 MAID OF MAR1END0RPT. 

So memory fell asleep ! Remember'st aught 
That woman carried ? 

Meeta. Carried ? 

Muhldenau. Carried. 

Meeta. No. 

Muhldenau. She was thy sister's nurse. 

Meeta. It was a child 
She carried ! Was it 1 Yes ! — I see it now 
In her arms, as plain as I see you. O, heart I 
What hast thou been about? All's clear as noon! — 
A child she carried, and it was my sister ! 
I recollect my sister ! Were they killed? 

Muhldenau. The woman was. 

Meeta. And not my sister ? 

Muhldenau. That 
Knows Heaven alone ! That night of carnage over, 
We searched the street — the woman's body found, 
But of thy little sister not a trace ! 

Meeta, And you did search the street? — She was not kill'd! 
Had she been killed, her body had been found 
Sure as the nurse's—Yes ! — and I have heard 
Nine times in ten, when caught in mortal strait 
A woman with an infant in her arms, 
Altho' she lose herself, will save her load I 
She was not kill'd, for didn't I escape 1 
I that did wail and clamor as you say ! — 
They hurt not me whom else soe'er they hurt ; 
And would they harm a little speechless child, 
As like to smile at them as look afraid 
To come to them, if it could walk, as fly? 
'Tis not in mortal man that his wits, 
To slay a little harmless, witless child ! 
To wound it, scratch !— -I would stake my life 
She was not kill'd-— Some one did snatch her up — 
Take her away — put in a place of safety — 
God bless him ! cherishes her now perhaps 
As if she were his own ! Do you not think 
She is alive? — I'm sure she is alive ; 
I have a sister still ! 

Muhldenau. Thy sanguine heart 
A little light enlarges into day. 
It is thy father's nature which thou hast, 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 19 

Uncheck'd in thee, in him subdued by time. 

Now see'st thou why this summons is a thing 

To welcome ? Hitherto my debt to thee, 

My yearnings for my lost one still has held 

In check — yes, yearnings, Meeta ; for I own 

The likeness, tho' a faint one, of thy hope, 

Touching thy sister, round thy father's heart 

Hath ever hung ! but now that I am call'd, 

Commanded — for 'tis even so, my child — 

To leave thee — tho' the track I must pursue 

Borders with danger, yet it is a journey 

I undertake more pleased, than I'd forego ! 

For — if we may believe in presages — 

And wherefore not if we believe at all, 

As who shall shape and bound the ways of heaven — 

To other issue than its proper one, 

And nearer to myself this mission leads — 

Perhaps concerning thee ! — perhaps — Yes, Meeta, 

I cannot help the thought, for, next to thee, 

It is the stay of my old age — perhaps 

Concerning — 

Meeta. My lost sister. 

Muhldenau. Yes, my child, 
Not dead, I do believe, but lost. How well 
You reason on't ! The body was not found : 
A nurse, as thou did'st say, will lose herself, 
Yet save her load — 'tis not, I do believe, 
In flesh and blood to slay a little child : 
You're right, the child was saved — is living yet ! 
You have made your father turn a boy again ! 
Well be it so ! I do believe it, Meeta ! 
You are content, my child, to let me go ? 

Meeta. I am, sir — that is, not, as at the first, 
My he'art grows sick at the thought of losing you. 
Couldn't I go too ? — No — no ! — there is danger, 
And that's my answer. Farewell, father ! — There ! 
We'll say good-bye at once .' 

Muhldenau. Not yet, my child ! 
Should'st thou require a friend when I'm away, 
Here is the name of one. He lives in Prague ; 
He is a Jew. 

Meeta. A Jew. 



20 MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 

Muhldenau. He'Jl give thee counsel, 
Should'st thou have need of it. 
Meeta. A Jew ? 
Muhldenau. Or if 
Thy funds run low in sudden exigence, 
He'll help them mount again. 
Meet a. A Jew ? 
Muhldenau. Why not ? 
Meeta. And I a Christian father's child ! 
Muhldenau. Is not 
A Jew a man ? Would'st thou, a Christian, help 
A Jew, that's of thy creed an enemy ? 
Meeta. I would ! 

Muhldenau. And why not then a Jew help thee ? 
I know a reason ; but the blame on't lies 
Not on the other side. It is the race 
Elect from all mankind, whose course is mark'd 
From youngest time by high behests from Heaven, 
By miracles and oracles, and deeds 
Of mighty men who put their trust therein ! 
Don't fear thy father's friend! — Don't fear the Jew ! 
Meeta. I am corrected, sir. — I shall observe. 
Muhldenau. Here comes thy Rupert's mother — and in 
time. 

Enter Madame Roselheim. 

My absence, madam, need not be a let 

To stay my daughter's nuptials with thy son. 

I know a soldier's time is not his own ; 

And what is granted him, behoves him use. 

So,* Meeta, do not wait for my return, 

If past the time delay'd. — Farewell, my child ! 

Madam, farewell! — We are in the hands of Heaven ! 

[Goes out; Meeta, after a struggle, falls weeping upon 
the neck of Madame Roselheim. 

end of act i. 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 21 

ACT II. 

SCENE I.—Muhldenau's Garden. Wreaths of flowers 
hung from the branches of the trees — rustic seats here and 
there, ornamented. 

Enter Esther and Hans. 

Hans. Now, Esther, have I pleased you ? Is there 
aught 
I have forgotten ? The garlands properly disposed, 
The seats in order, and the company, 
Bid as you told me ? There's the music too, 
Three fiddles — first and second, and a bass, 
A hautboy, flute and harp ! Are you not pleased ? 
Look pleas'd ! Do, Esther ! Seldom do you smile 
On me ; and welcomer than Christmas day, 
Or New- Year's day, or any day o' the year. 
Were one kind look from Esther. 

Esther. To say truth, 
You have managed finely ! 

Hans. Law! how sweet you smile! 
What's honey now ? I wouldn't take a hive 
To pay for't with that smile ! Tndeed I wouldn't, 
In very deed, I wouldn't — and I'm fond 
Of honey ! furious fond of it. O dear ! 
A thing so sweet to see, what must it be 
To taste ? O happy days of boyhood, when 
Whatever I did right was sure to get me 
A kiss from my mother. Times are changed with Hans ; 
Do what he may, he gets no kisses now. 

Esther. Now he wants me to kiss him ! — So. — Good 
Hans, 
'Tis not with men you know, as 'tis with boys ; 
Kisses do come to boys, but men must fetch them. 

Hans. But knew I I could get them — I would fetch 
them ! 

Esther. Why, Hans, how can you know unless you try? 

Hans. Unless I try ! — Now mean you what you say ? 

Esther. Why say it else ? 

Hans. And they'll be had by fetching ? 

Esther. A fool may tell they'll not be had without. 

Hans. O Esther? 



22 MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 

Esther. Well? 

Hans. Would I could hear thee say, 
" O Hans !" 

Esther. O Hans !— There, I've said it '.—Well ? 

Hans. Durst I but try ? But then there is the fear ! 

Esther. And there's the hope ! the flower beside the 
weed. 

Hans. O, Esther— Oh. 

Esther. O, Hans ! 

Hans. Give me a kiss i 

Esther. Fool ! — said I not before, 
Men must fetch kisses, tho' to boys they come ? 

Hans. O would you fancy me a boy ! 

Esther. I do ; 
Not only fancy thee, but know thee one ! 

Hans. Then treat me as a boy. 

Esther. How? 

Hans. As you said 
Just now that boys were treated. 

Esther. As I live, 
He'd have it come from me ! What said I now ? 

Hans. You said that kisses come to boys. 

Esther. I did ; 
And so do railings, cuffs, and fifty things 
That are not half so sweet. — Did I not say 
The dance was to be practised ? Where are then 
The partners ? Where's the music ? In a minute 
The bridegroom comes, when all should be prepared — 
Is't then a time make ready ? Well ? Don't stand 
With gaping mouth when busy hands are needed — 
Fetch here the dancers and the music. 

Hans, (without moving.) Yes. 

Esther. Is that the way to do it ? Will they come 
With only saying " Yes ?" Art thou a post ? 

Hans. In sooth I know not what I am. I know 
I'm not myself! I may be man or woman, 
A fish, or a brute beast, a stone, or log 
Of wood, for what I care ! I would 'twere now 
All over with me, and the coroner 
Were sitting on me ! It will come to that I 
I'll do thy bidding — then I'll go and die — 
I will ! I'll tie me a true-lover's knot 



MAIC OF MARIENDORFT. 



23 



You'll see I will — Good bye ! — 

Esther, (stamping.) Hans ! 

Hans. Well? 

Esther. Have here 
The dancers, ere I stamp my foot again. 

Hans. I fly. [Goes out, 

Esther. Poor Hans ! The boy is deep in love ! 
Ho v^ have I managed to light up this flame ? 
" Heigho !" " O dear ?■ The simpleton, I vow, 
Grows interesting. I should grieve for Hans, 
Were aught to happen to him. It is hard 
To be the bane of a poor fellow's peace. 
Much more to be the death of him ! Should he go 
And drown himself ! or hang himself, indeed ! 
Hans ! (Calling.') I could never bear myself again ! 
To see him laid out in his shroud ! Hans \ Hans 1 (.Calling.} 
To follow the poor fellow to his grave — 
To see him lower'd into it — Why, Hans ! (Calling.) I hear 
The earth upon his coffin ! Hans, I say ! 
Where are vou ? 

Hans, (entering with dancers ) Here ! Is any thing the 
matter, 
You call'd me in a tone of such distress ? 

Esther, (recovering herself.) Am I not in a hurry, and 
you take 
An hour and more to do a minute's work ! 

Hans. I'm sure I'm hardly gone a minute^ 

Esther. Fool ! 
You cannot tell a minute from an hour I 

Hans. Here are the dancers and the music, but 
One partner is a-wanting. 

Esther. You stand up ! 

Hans. It is a woman's wanting. 

Esther. 'Tis no matter, 
Take you her place. 

Hans. I'll do whate'er you bid me — ■ 
But 'tis too hard to make a woman of me, 

Esther, (impatiently.) Are you ready ? 

Hans. Yes ! I'll dance him till I tire him. 

[Dance. Hans exerts himself to the utmost, constantly 
looking towards Esther, who gradually becomes pleased^ 
and still more and more enjoys his vivacity, His partner 



24 MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 

fives up, and Hans dances by himself before Esther, who 
umours his steps. The others at length dance off, 

Hans, Danced I to please you ? 

Esther. Yes ; and there — your thanks. [Kisses him. 

Hans, And there are yours for paying me so well ! 

[Kissing again. 
Mars ! if I hav'n't kissed her ! 

Esther. Hans — why, Hans ! 

Hans. Nay, don't be angry. All the blame was yours ; 
You kiss'd me first. : Twas only kiss for kiss ! 

Esther, Here's some one coming ! Why, you idle boy ! 
Nothing within, without the house, to do, 
That you are standing here ? No plate to clean ? 
No knives and forks ? no furniture to polish ? 
No glasses nor decanters to be rinsed, 
And dried, and clear'd ? When put you last to rights 
Your pantry ? 'Twas in wond'rous order when 
I look'd into it yesterday ! Go, sir ; 
A gaping mouth won't serve for busy hands ! 
To work, I say ! Do you hear me, boy? 

Hans. I do, 
Yet hardly can believe it. 

Esther. Hence. To work ! [Hans goes out. 

Enter Madame Roselheim. 

Madame Roselheim. To work? Why, Esther, 'tis a holiday ! 
Knew you what you were saying? Do you hear me? 
Esther turn'd girl ! May I believe my eyes — 
And they have never failed me yet — I saw thee 
Kiss the lad Hans just now? 

Esther, 'Twas he kiss'd me. 

Madame Roselheim, You first kiss'd him, 

Esther. Well, if I did, I did, 
He danced just now, and pleased me 'twas so well — 
And so I kiss'd him, as a woman may 
A boy ! 

Madame Roselheim, You are right; you might have said 
a child : 
Hans is no more. 

Esther. Hans no more than a child ? 
He's twenty-five — foe says so — next birth-day. 
A pretty child indeed ! If he's a child, 
Children are marriageable ! Such a child 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 



25 



My mother's husband was, when birth of me 
Made him a father. 

Madame Roselheim. Be not angry, Esther ; 
I did not say of Hans he was too young 
To be a husband — if you fancy him. 

Esther. I fancy Hans? I fancy living man, 
And Hans especially ! I, that am gall 
At ve»y thought a man should be my master ! 
I, to whom never ventured man to say 
Soft thing a second time — and those have tried 
Who have back'd furious seas, and shown a front 
To bayonet points and loaded cannon mouths — 
And I to fancy Hans ! I thank you, ma'am. 
Dress up a girl in boy's clothes for me, do, 
And send her me for husband ! Hans indeed 
To call me wife ! I to call Hans my husband ! 
How I should like to hear myself! I'll marry 
When it rains husbands ; but it shan't be Hans ! 

Madame Roselheim. Well, Esther, do not fret. 

Esther. I fret ! I think 
I see myself! Fret about Hans ! I know 
You did but jest. It was a rare conceit 
To say I'd marry Hans, (laughs.) I'll kill myself 
With laughing at the thought. Esther to marry — 
And Hans, of all mankind ! 

Madame Roselheim. You are right, 'Twasjest! 
I have always set you down for an old maid! 
Go see if Meeta's ready. 

Esther, (aside.) An old maid ! 
Thank heaven I'm only five-and-thirty yet. 
Old maid indeed, and only thirty five ! 
I yet may live to be a grandmother ! [Goes out. 

Madame Roselheim No sign of Rupert yet, and noon is 
past. 
He will not come. These nuptials will be stopp'd, 
Her father's summons boded, as I thought, 
No good- There is in the affairs of life, 
As in the atmosphere, a season, where 
To shining day succeedeth shining day ; 
But once the weather breaks, 'tis cloud and cloud, 
And long deferr'd and slow the clearing up. 
C 



26 MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 

Enter Messenger with letters, and retires* 

From Rupert ! I was right — he will not come : 
The field is ta'en a month before the time, 
His leave has been reeall'd. Poor Meeta ! Go 
Undress thee, girl ! Thy gear of every day 
Belongs to this on which thou thought'st to wear 
The brightest suit that virginhood puts on ! 
This is to Meeta — from her father ? No — 
The hand is strange ! Why, who should write to her 
Except her father ? About whom but him 
Or Rupert, should she hear, and he has told 
His errand in my letter ! If it speaks 
About her father, harm has fall'n upon him ! 
And what will Meeta do ? A solid mind- 
But has to learn to bear a father's ills ! 
What can have chanced ? Perhaps imprisonment ! 
Not death ? O no ! not death ! It cannot be ! 
Heaven, for his child's sake, for his own, will spare him. 

[Goes out. 

SCENE II. — Meeta's Dressing-Room. 

Meeta and Esther enter — the former abstracted^ the latter 
making a bridal knot. 

Esther. No favor for your breast ! A bride, and go 
To church without a favour ! Well ! to think 
Of all things that should be forgot ! Almost 
As well forget your wedding-day itself! 
Almost as well no wedding as no favour ! 
Know'st thou not so ? [ Touching her. 

Meeta. What said you to me, Esther ? 

Esther. There ! I protest^ as well it were the wall 
I spoke to as to you ! as much 'twould hear me. 
What said you to me, Esther ? Esther said — 
It was your wedding-day — that you forgot 
A favour for your breast — that she would make one — 
And here 'tis ready ! Let me pin it on. 

Meeta. No word yet from my father ! 

Esther. From your father ? 
Your lover, don't you mean ? 

Meeta. I mean my father. 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 27 

Esther. Humph ! Give me anything but want of nature! 
I do not like you, Meeta ! Flesh and blood 
Are flesh and blood ! Were it my wedding-day, 
Almost the very hour, and every minute 
The bridegroom look'd for, would I, think you, Meeta, 
Be running on my father ? I'll be honest : 
I'd think of something dearer — that I would, 
And be a good child still ! 

Meeta. You lost your father 
When you were but an infant. You don't know 
What 'tis to love a father. 

Esther. Do I not ? 
Yes ; but I do ! It is to honour him, 
So we are bidden — that is, to obey him — 
Respectfully entreat him ! 

Meeta. Nothing more ? 

Esther. What more ? 

Meeta. O, much ! — O, very much ! — Such things 
We do to persons are indifferent to us, 
Or to their stations ! There is something more — 
Better — less earthly — more o' th' grain of Heaven — 
A love that's indefinable ! — that holds 
Ourselves as nothing in respect of cherishing ! 
That still is kneeling tho' no limb be bent, 
And looking up with ever-gushing will, 
Anticipating wishes ! — It is worship — 
Altho' no lip be moved, no eye be strain'd, 
No hands be clasp'd — like that which hath acceptance 
Above — O' the soul! O, how I love my father ! 
To say " before my life" is to say nothing — 
That's his, and 'tis a gasp and over ! but 
To slave, beg, starve for him — forego possession 
Of mine own dearest earthly wishes — havings — 
I'd do it, Esther, in a moment ! — Yes ! 
Not give 't a second thought ! Remember'st thou 
I once was froward with thee ? I was then 
A girl not ten years old — dost not remember ? 
I had found a hair of his— a long white hair, 
And I had coil'd it up to keep for treasure ; 
But thou didst flout me for't and take't away, 
And cast into the fire — whence all your might 
It took to hold me. Yes, I would have thrust 



28 MAID OF MAR1ENDORPT. 

My hand into the fire to save that hair ! 
That is to love a father ! 

Esther. If it is, 
Then know I not what is the love of one. 

Meeta. You never knew one, said I not before ? 
Bat mine was twice a parent — that is, Esther, 
He was my father and my mother too. 
I never knew my mother, but I am sure 
I should have loved her — dearly loved her, Esther ; 
But my father — nurse was he to me, instructor, 
Playmate, companion, father altogether ! 
Think of that, Esther. Playmate ! Such a man 
To dwindle into a child for my sake ! There 
I half believe I find the root of love 
Which has struck deepest. — He to play the child 
With his white hairs ! — There is not one of them 
But has a heart and soul in't — to me, Esther ! — 
Don't smile — You know you own you cannot tell 
What 'tis to love a father. 

Enter Madame Roselheim. 

Madame Roselheim. Meeta. 

Meeta. Well, 
Dear Madame Roselheim ? 

Madame Roselheim. The post is m. 

Meeta. And Rupert doesn't come 7— I thought 'twould 
be so ! 
I was prepared for it ! I wish'd it — tho* 
My father will'd our nuptials should go on. 
'Tis well ! O, if there be one hour, which more 
Than any other craves a parent's presence, 
'Tis that which gives his child away from him ! 
She should go with his blessing warm upon her, breathed 
With an attesting kiss ; then may she go 
With perfect hope, and eheerly take with her 
The benisons of all kind wishers else ! — 
You know I love your son ? 

Madame Roselheim, (weeps.) I know it well, 
My Meeta. 

Meeta. Madame '.—Mother ! I'm the bride — 
You must not weep till I do ! — 'Tis not fair, 
I'll not be beat in disappointment, I 
That have chief cause to feel it ! Is he ill ? 



MAID OF MAMENDORPT. 29 

Madame Roselheim. No ! — No ! 

Meeta. Thank Heaven ! and yet some other cause 
As grave as that of health perhaps prevents him ? 

Madame Roselheim. No; the campaign has open'd — 
nothing more. 

Meeta. Enough! — Long marches — nightly guards — 
chill sleeping 
In the open fields — foragings — reconnoiterings 
Skirmishings — stormings and pitch'd battles ! Rupert, 
Poor Rupert — (weeps) — Mother, I am quits with you, 
There are many tears 'gainst yours ! 

Madame Roselheim. I wasn't weeping 
For Rupert, Meeta. 

Meeta. For whom, then ? — My father ! 

Madame Roselheim. For no one — that is, there's no cause 
I know of 
Why I should weep. 

Meeta. Why weep, then ? 

Madame Roselheim. 'Twas a fear 
I had 

Meeta. About my father ? — Is that letter 
For me ? — that, that's unopen'd? — Give it me ; don't fear. 
Tho' I'm a girl, I have a resolution. {Reads letter.) 
Read it ! (Handing it to Madame Roselheim.) 

Madame Roselheim. Arrested ! and a prisoner 
In Prague ! — His fate uncertain — but his life 
In peril, Meeta! (Tottering, as on the point oj fainting.) 

Meeta, (trying to recover her.) Mother ! — Madame ! — 
Madame ! — 
Mother ! — Madame Roselheim, don't give way ! — these 

things 
Are catching, and I want to be myself! 
I must be myself — I will be myself ! I'll not waver, 
Flinch, droop, the matter of a moment. — Madame ! 
I have need of all the nerve I have — and help me ! 
Don't take it from me ! — My father wants it all, 
And he must have it, and shall ! — Well, well ! give way ! 
The more you are water, the more will I be rock! 
I am so ! — Let me see — 

Madame Roselheim. My child ! — my Meeta ! 
Thou show'st it not ; but, if I feel the shock, 
What must it prove to thee ? 



30 MAID OF MAUIENDORPT. 

Meeta. Nothing, madame ! — nothing! 

Let's see How many miles is Prague from this ? 

I recollect — that's right ! — that's right !— I have 
My senses all about me — I thank Heaven ! 
The paper that he gave me ? — It is here- — 
In my bosom ! — I remember everything ! — 
I am quite myself! 

Madame Roselheim. Meeta ! this calmness frights me ! 

Meeta. Don't mind it ! — all is well ! — I recollect 
To the very letter, all my father told me ; 
And I will do his bidding. A fine time 
'Twould be for me to swoon ! (laughs) — a proper time ! 

[Laughs. 
I must not laugh ; for if I do, I'm lost ! 
Heaven give me firmness ! — Of myself, I'm nothing ! 
There !— 'tis gone off. I'll but provide myself, 
And away ! [Going toioards her chamber. 

Madame Roselheim. Where go you, Meeta ? 

Meeta. Nowhere — nowhere, 
Where any heed. 

Madame Roselheim. What go you, then, to do ? 

Meeta. Nothing that matters aught: but change my dress. 

Madame Roselheim. But, Meeta ! — 

Meeta. Mother^ let me have my way ! 
Don't hinder me, and do not follow me ! 
Else that may come you would not wish to come. 
Command me, after, all my life, so now 
You suffer me be mistress of myself. [Goes out. 

''Madame Roselheim. She makes me trembie— she's so 
little moved ! 
Why, Esther ! are you too about to swoon ? 

Esther. Almost I am ! — My heart turn'd sick just now ; 
But it grows better. 

Madame Roselheim. What do you think of Meeta ? 

Esther. I wonder at her — but she's all a wonder ! 
Had you but heard her talk, ere you came in, 
About her father ! — 

Madame Roselheim. I'm afraid of her. 
She is too calm — it is unnatural ! 
She cannot be herself, thus to sustain 
What taxes you and me too much, to whom 
It comes not half so home ! — She has not shed 



MAID OF MARIENDOItPT. 31 

A tear ! — No sound of suffering 1 — a moan, 

A sigh — a breath, you could mistake for one- 1 - 

Has 'scap'd her ! She forbade me follow her ; 

But am I right to heed her ? Reason is gone 

Ere you suspect that it has given way ; 

So this collectedness may be but crust, 

Not substance ; which, while you believe it is, 

It crumbles into dust ! We should not leave her 

Alone. 

Esther. I heed her not ! I'll follow her ! [Going. 

Enter Meeta. 

Meeta. Where are you going, Esther ? 

Esther. Into your chamber, 
To look for you. 

Meeta. Well ! here I am ! — What want you ? 

Esther. Why, you are dress'd as 'twere to go a journey ! 

Meeta. I am. 

Madame Roselheim. And whither go you, Meeta ? 

Meeta. To 
My father ! 

Madame Roselheim. Are you mad ? 

Meeta. I could be mad ! 
But I must keep my reason — and I will ! 

Madame Roselheim. Reflect you on the distance ? 

Meeta. 'Tis a stride ! 

Madame Roselheim. A stride ! And do you calculate 
The danger ? 

Meeta. There's no danger ; none but that 
In which he lies ! 

Madame Roselheim. You may be stopp'd by robbers ! 

Meeta. There are no robbers. 

Madame Roselheim. Recollect the war ! 

Meeta. There is no war. ' N 

Madame Roselheim. Know'st that what thou art saying ? 

Meeta. I do, — believe it. 1 Tis the shortest wajr. 
Thou'lt have to take 't at last ! 

Esther. She shall not stir. 

Meeta. Nay, but I will ! — and go ! 

Madame Roselheim. Don't let her, Esther; 
Lay hold upon her. 

Esther. Will I not ! 



32 MAID OF MARIENDORPT- 

Metta. You will not ! — 
You must not ! — you dare not ! If you do, his blood 
Lie at your door. 

Madame Roselheim. Alas ! what power have you 
To help him, child ? 

Meeta. My will ! — Where there's the will, 
You cannot tell but there may be the Power ! 
Strong will can make a little power go far — 
At least, can I not beg his enemies 
To spare his life ? 

Madame Roselheim. You'll find there hearts are stone. 
Meeta. Perhaps ; but I will try if they are flesh. 
Madame Roselheim. And if it prove they are not ? 
Meeta. Then, I'll deal 
With his prison bolts and bars. Mother' 'tis vain ! 
Prevent me now, and I will 'scape again ; 
If not to-day, to-morrow. If not then, 
The next day — or the following. So time 
That's precious — every thing — is lost, and then 
The mischief done, and no good come of it 
That might have come, were it done promptly; madam ! 
Mother, 'tis reason, plain to speculation, 
As the hand I lift before you now to Heaven, 
To register my vow, that no regard 
Of difficulty, or unlikelihood, 
Or danger, or persuasion, or enforcement, 
Shall hold me back one moment from the attempt 
To save my father's life. Heaven bless you, madam ! 
Esther, good-bye ! That's right — no weeping — nothing 
But a kiss, and part ! — Good-bye ! — Good-bye ! -^-Good-bye! 

\_Exeunt % 

END OF ACT II. 



ACT III. 

SCENE I. — A room in Joseph's house at Prague. 
Enter Joseph and Ahab. 
Ahab. More gold ! 

Joseph. Yes, Ahab, more ! The dross is mine, 
Thou only hast the custody, and yet 



MAID OF MAB.IKNDORPT. 



33 



Thou yield'st it me as it were drops of blood 
From thine own heart ! I say, I want more gold, 
And more to follow yet, if that suffice not ; 
And, failing gold, I'll coin my parchments, plate, 
Jewels, and furniture — my very roof- 
But I shall find supplies! 

Ahab. And for a christian? 

Joseph. Thou art my brother—Jew. What could'st thou 
more 
Than risk thy life for mine ? 

Ahab. I do not know 
What greater venture man ean risk for man 
Than his own life. 

Joseph. Would'st thou risk thine for me t 
Thou art honest, Ahab, though thou lov'st thyself 
Better than any living thing beside. 
Thou pausest to consider ! Do not pause, 
'Tis waste of time which I will save thee. Ahab, 
Thou would'st not risk thy life for me. Now mark, — 
When I did suffer persecution, 
Ten years ago, in Spain,— when Christian men, 
In their Master's name, did that which never yet 
Their Master's precepts warranted — I say it, 
For it is written, Ahab, written plain 
That he who runs may read — when Christian men 
Gave human, living flesh to roast, because 
We held the old faith and eschew'd the new,— 
The Christian father of this Christian child 
Did save my life at peril of his own I 
Get the gold, Ahab ! He did that for me, 
That was not of his creed, thou would'st not do, 
Who art of mine ! Ahab, I felt it then, 
The Master taught them right i He is my neighbour 
That does a neighbour's office to me ! 
The gold, and plenty on't — a hundred ducats ! 

Ahab. A hundred ducats ? 

Joseph. 'Tis the twentieth part 
Of what remains ! A portion of his life 
He did not risk, but all. Resolve at once 
Te do my bidding, else my mind may change, 
And I may bid thee fetch the whole, — the whole ! 
A prompt compliance in a strait is best. 



34 MAID OP MARIENDORPT, 

Where others have the power to make conditions, 
Resistance tires forbearance. Fetch the gold, 
For the sake of him who saved the hands that made it 
From the fire. — Look here ! they are not cinders, Abah, 
But flesh : and thank a Christian. Fetch the gold ! 

[Ahab goes out. 
Poor girl! how she has wasted since she first 
Came here : yet how her spirit lasts beyond 
Her body : there she suffers no impairment. 
My Rachel had been like her had she lived, — 
The face reminds me of her as it shines 
From the thick bower of her raven hair, 
When now and then by chance I see it down L 

Enter Meeta. 

What news, my girl ? 

Meeta. None ! — I have sped to-day 
As yesterday ! The names of father, child, 
Seem here to carry to men's hearts no import 
Past that of lightest words. They hardly win 
An audience for me. When they do, the eye 
Of the listener, every other moment caught 
By passing trivial'st things, admonishes 
My tongue it only wastes an earnest suit 
Upon a heedless ear. Once, as I thought, 
An auditor was moved, — almost he seem'd 
To give me hope, — I felt as if about 
To cross the threshold of the prison, and 
Blessings and thanks rose in my throat so thick, 
That utterance did suffocate, and, but 
For tears that sudden came to my relief, 
I had fallen at his feet, — yet at that very moment 
Some antic feat I saw not, hut a wretch 
Did practise within view, convulsed him straight 
With laughter, 'mid the peals of which he left me, 
As I had ne'er been standing there ! A clap 
Of thunder had not stunned me half so much. 

Joseph. Was he a sentinel ? 

Meeta. He was. 

Joseph. I wonder 
What sentinel did keep his heart, to let 
Incontinent and ribald folly in, 
And pity standing weeping at the door I 



MAID OF MARIENDORi-T. 35 

Meeta. They are all alike ! See. 

[Showing an empty purse. 

Joseph. Thou hast emptied it ? 
Well, I can fill it again ! 

Meeta. All gone, and naught 
To show for it : a heart- full, too, of prayers ! 

Joseph. I fear there is no hope ! 

Meeta. Don't say it ! Though 
For so far we have found men's hearts but stones» 
Still will we turn them up. It cannot be 
But we will light on one that's flesh and blood. 
I won't believe it ! Yea, though from my hand 
The hundred thousandth one dropp'd dead as flint, 
I'd go to the next as though the human touch 
Might meet me there ! No ! while my father lives, 
I'll never give up my hope to save his life ! 

Joseph. A girl — and proof against despondence thus ! 

Meeta. I often fear you deem me hard of heart. 
Perhaps you thi#fe-I do not weep enough ? 
It is not that I could not weep — it is 
That I won't weep — that I won't give way — that I'll keep 
My spirit up — my thoughts about me — waste 
Naught that my father wants. I can't afford 
To be a child, and melt. No ! I must be 
A deliverer, and proof to dissolvement 
As a rock ! I have not shed a single tear 
But as a prayer — except to-day, when I gasp'd, 
And must have wept or dropp'd, and even then 
It came of itself! Thou said'st just now thou fcared'st 
There was no hope ? but there is ! I came resolved 
To keep it from thee, promise had so oft 
Enticed belief to balk it. I have a chance 
To see the daughter of the Governor. 
Joseph. How came this blessed chance ? 
Meeta. Ha! blessed sayst thou? 
Perhaps 'twill prove so ! — The poor human heart, 
How it doth build, and build on slightest ground*! 
Words dropp'd by chance to pass for prophecies ! 
We'll pray it may be bless'd — we then may hope it ! 
Well, I will tell you. 
Joseph. Hope begins to dawn I 



36 MAID OP MAR1ENDORPT. 

Meeta. Didn't 1 say there was no fear of hope? 
I went, as every day I yet have done, 
To the Governor's. The man that oped the gate 
Was a new warder. A new face, new hope ! 
I told my tale, and when 'twas done implored him 
Prefer my poor petition to his lady, 
To grant me briefest audience. 

Joseph. To the daughter 
Of the Governor ? 

Meeta. To her. 

Joseph. I see : go on ! 

Meeta. Like all the rest, he show'd — not plainly tho% 
But by a hint — that charities were things 
Of cost, and must be bought with more than thanks. 
My purse was officeless, my last balk'd suit 
Had of its trust absolved it quite — a wretch 
Who bragg'd, to win my bribe, a power he had not, 
And added savage mockery to the wrong ! 
I pleaded destitution. " What," he cried, 
"No toy, no trinket, you could turn to coin ! " 
And rudely snatching from its place my hood, 
Which, I had just unloosed for want of air — 
M Hal" he exelaim'd " what costly treasure's this!" 
As, by the action from its band released, 
My hair fell all around me ! 

Joseph. Thereof make they 
High traffic. I have known a head of hair, 
*Of ordinary goodliness, to bring 
A common peasant maid a little dower ! 
There scarce were price a woman might not set, 
On one so rich as thine. 

Meeta. Indeed ! I would 
I then had known its value — I had made 
A surer bargain. 

Joseph. Durst he ask it of thee ? 
Wretch ! He shall never have it ! Thou shah take 
A purse of ducats to him, 

Meeta. It is his 
Already. I did let him sever it, 
As only 'twere the string that held it up, 
And gave it to him. 

Joseph. Was not I at hand 
To fill thy purse ? A quarter of an hour 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT- 37 

Had ta'en three here and back. 

Meeta. And in that time 
His mind had changed, or he had been removed. 
And in his place another put, and all 
Had been to do again, and that perhaps 
With lessen'd chance. — Had he ask'd me for a limb 
He had had it — had it ! — not one precious moment 
Had J staid haggling with him. It had gone 
As the hair of my head — aye — as a single hair. 
'Tis time I go— 

Enter Ahab. 

Ahab* Dispaches have arriv'd 

Meeta. They bring the order for my father's death. 
I see it ! Say it. You cannot tell me worse 
Than I know. 

Ahab. The news is bad. 

Meeta. I'll not give up 
While there is chance the substance of a thread — 
A film, Altho'a thousand emperors 
Had sworn against the life of his grey hairs, 
While it is in them, I will try and save them ! 

Joseph. Thou lookest faint ! Some wine will hearten thee 

Meeta. I'll have no wine but such as a draw hence, 
From my heart ! There's not such wine in all thy house 
To strengthen me ! There's plenty and to spare ! 
What time is he to die ? 

Joseph. Tell her.— -No use 
Withhold it from her. Her spirit is the arch 
Which gaineth strength by that which burdens it. 

Ahab. He is to die within three days, altho' 
The Governor did so report his case 
As might have gain'd for him a milder doom . 

Meeta. Did he ? Did the Governor ? Did you say 
The Governor his case reported kindly? 
The Governor ? he ?— he that's here ? — here now 
In Prague ? — the very Governor of Prague ? 

Ahab. The same ; but some severe reverse, they say, 
Our arms have met with, so have overcast 
The imperial mind, that clemency is quench'd, 
And thus thy father's death, alas, decreed ! 

Meeta. I would be here and twenty leagues from this, 

Joseph. Why twenty leagues from this ? 

Meeta. That distance lives 
A friend might give me help. 

P 



38 MAID OF MAR1ENDORPT 

Joseph. Then suffer me 
To be thy second self, and see that friend, 

Meeta. He is an enemy to Prague, 

Joseph. And Prague 
An enemy to thee — and I'm thy friend 1 
Trust me, my child. 

Meeta. My father told me this, 

thou good man — thou Christian ! — Pardon me. 
Joseph. Pardon thee, child ? I thank and honor thee : 

Thou canst not praise me more than call me that 
Thy conscience thinfceth best. 
Meeta. Then eome with me, 
And I'll instruct thee on the way. 'Tis time 

1 see the servant of the Governor. 

Three days we have from this — that's three whole days — 
He dies on Saturday — (ruminating)— He cannot die ! 

SCENE II. — An Apartment in the Governor's. 
Enter Baron Idenstein and Adolpha. 

Idenstein. Indeed, indeed, it was not wisely done ! 
*Tis wrong that pity should be sufferer 
By her sweet nature, as she is, enduring 
Her gentle throes in vain : which are relieved 
When of avail to those for whom they're borne, 
Else, pain incontinently ! 'Twas not right 
To promise audience to her, her affliction 
Past help. What can'st thou give her but thy tears, 
And what are they ? They cannot ope for her 
Her father's prison door, nor wash away 
The writing of the warrant which decrees 
His term of life. Thou should'st have sent her word 
" It could not be." It was of no avail. 
'Twas rending thy own heart, without repair 
Of hers. 'Twas idle waste of agony. 
'Twas feeding hope thou knew'st was sure to die. 

Adolpha. Is there no hope ? 

Idenstein. There ! were it fate herself 
Said " No," thy sanguine nature would not rest, 
But ask again with thought she'd change her mind. 
His fate is fix'd — within three days he dies. 

Adolpha. On Saturday ? 

Idenstein. Yes ; Saturday's the day. 

Adolpha. Take me from Prague ! I would not be in 
Prague 
That day ! I gee the reverend old man 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 39 

Dragging along the street, as on the day 
I saw him first — by accident approaching 
The casement as he pass'd ! — his silver 'd head 
Uncover'd, an unseemly sight ! beset 
As 'twas, by fierce array of threatening arms, 
In hands wherin the pith of life was fresh, 
Which better far it had become to give 
Protection to him than oppose offence. 
'Twas only for a moment, but the form 
Of the old man has never left me since. 
I will not be in Prague the day he dies ; 
I wish I could forget when that day comes ! 
What day is this ? When will be Saturday ? 

to have time, 'twixt this and after then, 
A blank, that I might pass that cruel day, 
Nor know on't till 'twas gone ! 

Idenstein. My sweet Adolpha, 
A strange and wond'rous compound is thy heart, 
Frame of all moods, from gravest to most light, 
And all in like extreme ! Thy mirth defies 
All other wing ; thy sadness dives a depth 
Where none can follow thee. No eye such stores 
Of tears, no cheek such treasury of smiles ! 
Most natures have their bias, thine hath none, 
Save goodness, which directs and poises all ! 
My love, thou shalt not be in Prague that day. 

Adolpha. But must it come ? 

Idenstein. See there again ! Thy heart 
Will take no answer, save what pleases it, 
And yet it knows as well as I do know 
It cannot have. 

Adolpha. My father's Governor ! 

Idenstein. The Emperor is his master. 

Adolpha. Let him be ! 
Were I my father, in a case like this, 

1 would gainsay the Emperor — refuse 
To do his bidding, or evade obedience — ■ 
Do anything but take the old man's life. 
'Tis murder, Idenstein ! He was no spy I 
Came on no hostile mission ! nothing did 
Could threaten damage to the Emperor's cause — 
Only fulfill'd an act of private duty, 

To her whom once he served ! Why should he die 
For that ? What reason that a giant hand 
Be laid on him to crush him to the grave ! 



40 MAID OF MARIENDORPTV 

A breach of duty were true duty here, 
Where duty, done, is breach of everything-. 
For all thou say'st, I can't believe he'll die, 
Knowing-, as I know, he ha s no right to die ! 
I'll see my father. 

Idenstein. To counsel treason to him ? 

Adolpha. That is not treason which is not unright ! 

[goes out. 

Idenstein Her virtuous will, will never own a let : 
What she desires, she ever doth infer 

The power to do. (listens.) Ha ! — Now she pleads to him* 
That were well urged, if earnestly were well ! — 
I do not hear his answer, but by the tone 
*Tis"No!" She comes to the attack again ! 
A friend in need, Adolpha, with a chance 
In thy favour — thou hast none ! — Again I guess 
His answer by the tone ! — He will not yield — 
Nor still will she give up — no advocate 
Like one that pleads with heart! — What! Tears?— I'm 

sure 
She weeps! — this rain, Adolpha, won't avail I 
Duty's ai stern defendant ; thou must lose 
Thy suit ; — here comes the governor ! — Kind heart I 
What sum is there ! — No cloud can keep it out ; 
But lower it ne'er so thick, some beam breaks thro*. 

Enter General Kleiner. 

General Kleiner. I can't endure it ! — won't ! — Give me a 
siege, 
With a starved garrison and gaping breach ! 
Foundations honey comh'd with mines !— the foe 
A hundred men to one — Or give me a battle 
With bayonets cross'd, and cannon mouth to mouth, 
And I'm myself! I know my duty, and 
Can act the man ! — but save me from the eyes 
Of a woman, when she weeps, and I the cause r 
And cannot stop her tears ! — 'Sdeath ! would they drown 4 
I'd thank them ! In the name of patience, why 
Cannot one make a woman list to reason ? 
Why does that drive her mad which keeps us sane? 
Talk reason to her, and her wits are gone ! 
'Sdeath ! I can govern Prague ; but not a woman r 

Idenstine. Why, what has happen'd, General ? 

General Kleiner. Don't call 
Me General ! — call your wife General ! — she knows 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 41 

My duty better than I know it myself ! 
Tell her of customs, order, penalties, — 
You talk of things that she can treat as the thread 
fehe cuts with her hus'ife scissors ! I have served 
For fifty years — for more than half that time 
Have managed men by units, tens, and hundreds, 
And tens of hundreds ! — I can't rule a woman ! 
Jtul» her ? — that's not the question ! — would it were ! 
JShe must rule me ! 

Idenstein. But whats the matter ? 

General Kleiner. Matter? 
That wife of yours — that girl — that waxen doll — 
Adolpha ! Is she not your wife ; and don't 
You know it ? Did you ever say her " nay," 
And prosper ? — ever know her to give up 
The point her heart was fix'd on ? She'd make hay 
In December ! Mars— -a profitable wife ! 
She'd have the Helder thaw with a north wind 
In January, when the frost doth bite 
With all its teeth ! She'd stop the tide half in, 
When it runs strongest. She would stop the sun, 
The moon, and all the stars ! 

Idenstein. What has she done, sir ? 

General Kleiner. Desired me ope' the prison-door that's 
shut 
By the Emperor's order — let its tenant out — 
Laugh at the warrant for his death, that's seal'd 
By the Emperor's hand ! When I refuse her that — 
Which, did I grant her, I should lose my head, 
And that were falling somewhat grievously 
Short of my due proportions— she insists 
Upon a respite, while she goes herself 
To plead his cause before the Emperor ! 
She'd do it ! And when I refuse her that, 
She prays me set my wits to work, and pass 
A fiction off for fact — not killing him, 
Altho' he seem to die ! She'd make me out 
A necromancer ! When she's balk'd of that — 
Which on as valid reason I refuse, 
As one to weave with gyves upon his hands — 
She opens on me volleys of loud sobs, 
With showers of tears, that try my mettle more 
Then hail of lead ! I wish you'd rule your wife — > 
Cut her right short, when she's unreasonable — 
Say "No " to her, and nothing else for a year! 
D* 



42 MAID OF MARIENDORPf. 

You spoil her, Idenstein ! — A woman never 
Should have her own way ! 

Idenstein. Sir, you gave it her 
Before I did. 

General Kleiner. A fool, sir, has a use ! 
He is a beacon to a man that's wise 
Enough to profit by him. 

Idenstein. All her fault 
Is but excess of too sweet nature, sir, 
Which ever makes another's griefs her own. 

General Kleiner. And mine, too ! Punishment is done 
away 
In Prague I Offenders 'scape, or I must smart 
For their penalties ! Nor ends it there. No ache, 
For ten miles round, but I must share a twinge, 
Chance it to come unto her knowledge ! — I 
Expire with woes of orphans, widows, maids 
Forsaken, wives in childbirth — all degrees 
Of human, female sufferings — I am in 
Articulo mortis, every day of my life, 
And not a pang my own ! 

Idenstein. And then you die, sir, 
A good man's death with benisons all round you. 

General Kleiner. I'd waive the benisons to 'scape the 
death ! 

Idenstein. Indeed — I know you better, sir! — you would 
not. 
* General Kleiner. I would ! — But who comes here ? 

Idenstein. As I believe, 
The daughter of the prisoner, Sir. Adolpha 
Has promised her an audience. 

General Kleiner. We are attack'd 
In flank and rear — Tell her it won't avail ! 
Persuade her to retreat ! Say we have taken 
Our ground and we will keep it, stand or fall ! 

Idenstein Had not you better do it, sir ? 
General Kleiner. Not 1 1 
I'm a recruit against their mode of fighting. 

[ Retires hastily, and sits down near a table. 

Enter Meeta and a Servant. 

Servant, ^speaking low to Meeta.) I'll tell her you are 

here. [# oeg out 

Idenstein,, You wish to see 
Tjfoe daughter of the Governor ? 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT, 43 

Meeta. I come 
To see her. I am promised I should see her". 
She said it, as I am informed, — indeed 
As I am sure she did, She is a lady : 
She cannot break her word. A noble lady, 
She would not break her word. A lady, sweet 
And pitiful — she will not break her word ! 

Idenstein. She will not ; but I pray you, for her sake, 
Absolve her from it and forego your suit, 
Which will avail you nought. It will not lead 
To what you want ; what is the worth on't then ? 
And wherefore should'st thou urge it ? 

Meeta. I am come 
To see the daughter of the Governor ; 
Come on her promise, as I have been told, 
And thou just now hast granted. If she wills 
To break her word, then as I came I go ! 
But if she waits for me to give it back, 
She'll wait till I am dead — and then she's free, 
As death solves all accounts. 

Idenstein. Why give her pain ; 
And bootlessly ? 

Meeta, My father is in prison, 
And he is doomed to die with three days, 
And I his child, within the faculty of speech, 
Cannot acquitted stand to hold my tongue, 
But, could I find for it no audience else! 
Must make it ring to stones for mercy in him 
While yet he breathes ! how then should I be dumb 
To human hearts, that are not hard as stones — 
At least should not be so. 

Idenstein. Leave me to plead 
Thy cause to her. Instruct me what thoud'st have, 
I'll urge it to her, and with reasons back 
Which thou would'st never dream of, — be there but 
A glimpse of hope, I'll see it and point out 
And make it clear to her, and if her heart 
Misgives her I'll encourage her. I'm her friend — 
Her husband. 

Meeta. You are not my father's child ! 
You would give up, where I would still go on : 
That which would make me plead the heartier, 
Would silence you. O, sir, in such a case, 
Would you petition for your father's life 
At second-hand ? But help me ! O do that I 



44 MAID OP MARIENDORT 

And I will pay you with a life of thanks ! 
And pardon me that I reject your counsel. — 
I cannot take it, sir ! — Indeed I cannot ! 
My heart, and mind, and sense, are capable 
Of nothing- but one thing — to try all means, 
However light or weighty, feasible 
Or unfeasible, rational, or wild, or mad, 
Allow'd or disallow'd — short of a stain 
Would spot my soul — to save my father's life. 

General Kleiner. Sdeath, am I chain'd here, that I would 
be hence. 
Yet lack the power to go ! 

Idenstein. The lady comes. 
So — speak to her, since you will have it so. 

Enter Adolpha and Servant, who goes out. 

This is the daughter of the prisoner, 

Meeta, (running up to Adolpha and kneeling.) Bless 
thee! 

Adolpha. Poor girl ! — No ! not thy knees ! — thy arms ! 
Here are mine. 

Meeta. O no ! my knee ! my knee ! — Or would you lift 
My body up, lift first my heart, that's low 
As misery can lay it ! I have a father, 
And he's in prison, and I must not see him. 
I am his only child, and I have travell'd 
Hundreds of miles, and when I reach the gate 
'Tis shut on me, and human beings keep it ! 
He dies on Saturday, and they can tell me 
I shall not see his living face ag-ain, 
And nothing has he done why they should kill him ! 
Nothing ! no more than you have ! An old man 
With a pale brow, sweet face, and silver hair, 
That would not hurt a fly ! — and he must perish, 
And no one to console him, and his daughter 
Within the wall's breadth of him ! — She must not touch 

him, 
See him, or speak to him !— You are a child ! 
You have a father i think of me and mine ! 
Speak for me ! Will you ? Pray the Governor 
To bid him let me in and see him ! Won't you ? 
Are you going ? Will you speak for me ? Will you get 

them 
To let me see my father ! Do — or here 
I'll lie at your feet forever I— -(falls prostrate.) 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 45 

General Kleiner. Idenstein, 
Can't you stop crying ? 

Idenstein. Sir, can you? 

Adolpha. (going to General Kleiner.) My father! 

General Kleiner. I'll not be shaken. [Crossing her — 
she holds him on the other side, kneeling to him.] 

Meeta — (partly raising herself and missing Adolpha. 
Has she gone to do it, 
Or means she to escape me ? — Ha ! she's there 
Kneeling to some one ! — "Pis the Governor ! 
Mercy — O — mercy ! 

General Kleiner. They are taking me 
By storm. The citadel is theirs. I see 
No use in holding out ! — Eh ! Idenstein ? 
Must I surrender ? She shall see her father ! 
[Meeta falls swooning at his feet — Picture — Scene drops* 

END OF ACT III. 



ACT IV. 

SCENE I. — The outskirts of General Torstenson's 
Camp. 

Enter Rodolph, Gerold, Lodowick, and others. — Soldiers 
dragging in Joseph. 

Gerold. He is a spy ! 

Lodowick. Drag him along to the guard. 
Let him be tried at once and executed. 

Gerold. Nay kill him without trial. He's a Jew 
Blasphemer, reprobate, extortioner ! 

Joseph. Nay, Sirs : but hear me ! 

Rodolph. Hear him. — Let him speak, 
Give him fair play. 

Gerold. Fair play and to a Jew ! 

Joseph. You give a thief fair play — a murderer — » 
And why not me, who neither kill nor steel ? 

Gerold. Not steal ! 

Rodolph. Have patience ! 

Joseph. Have I stolen from you ? 
What have you lost to lay to my account ? 
Is it your charity — I have it not; 
But I will spare you some of mine ! Perhaps 
The stock to serve a Christian may be small, 



46 MVID OF MARIENDORPT. 

Yet such as 'tis, it would not let me use. 
A christian, tho' a thief or murderer, 
As you use me ! 

Gerold. You hear him ! Leave him, Sirs, 
To me. I'll do his business ! 

Joseph. A brave man ! 

Gerold. Leave him to me, Sir ; I account a Jew 
But as I would a rat ! 

Joseph. Obey him, Sirs. 
Let go your hold of me, and loose the rat, 
Before that dog ! I have seen a cur to turn 
Before as small a thing ! I mean it, Sirs. 
But as you have a rat to use his teeth, 
Nor arm the dog you set upon a rat, 
So that, whate'er the odds, 'tis bite 'gainst bite, — 
Give me equality of weapons too, 
Hand against hand, at large, and arm'd or not, 
And see, if, be the Jew indeed a rat, 
The christian nearer doth approach the man ! 

Rodolph. The Jew has fairly said. 

Joseph. Will fairly do, 
Give him fair play ! Sirs, you are Christian men ! 
A Christian father lies in jeopardy 
In Prague — a reverend teacher of your faith. 
Man hath summ'd up his days ; the number's out 
On Saturday, unless Heaven sends him aid \ 
He has an only daughter, who essays 
To succour him, and spies salvation here, 
But cannot come to bring't — a Christian too — 
So she must send for't ; and thereto employs 
A friend, whose counsel, coffers, roof, hands, blood, 
She has, and welcome too, at her command. 
And Christian men — You, sirs ! — won't suffer him 
To do her will, because he is a Jew ! 

Gerold. We knew not this ! 

Joseph. You would not know it, Sirs ! 
You would not hear me ! would not let me speak ! 
Laid you not hands upon me one and all ? 
Vied you not in reviling me ? with death 
Did you not threaten me, nor till now give time, 
To put a word of deprecation in, 
Because I am a Jew ! 

Lodowick. We have wrong'd the Jew. 

Gerold. I fear we have, 

Rodolph. Nay, Sirs, I know we have, 
So let's ask pardon of the honest man. 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 47 

Joseph. Ask me no pardon — it is given ere ask'd. 
A venial fault's atoned for, when 'tis own'd. 
And pray you, Sirs, if you have friends yourselves — 
As friends, however fenced in this world, lie 
Within the leap of danger — bring- me straight, 
To one call'd Roselheim, who beareth rank 
Among your forces. 

Rbdolph. Here the very man 
Comes, as he knew your need. You'll not complain? 

Joseph. I never break my word, altho' a Jew. 

[Rodolph and the rest go out. 

Enter Rupert, Madame Roselheim, and Esther. 

Do I not speak to Major Roselheim ? 

Rupert. You have named me, friend ! 

Joseph. Thanks, Sir, to call me so ! 

Rupert. You have an errand for me — have you not ? 

Joseph. Yes ; but a messenger more welcome far 
Than I, this letter, Sir, will tell it you — 
I say more welcome — though it brings bad news. 

Madame Roselheim. From Meeta, is it not ? 

Rupert. Yes, mother. 

Madame Roselheim. What 
Says Meeta? 

Rupert. Presently ! — I'll tell you all 
Anon! 

Madame Roselheim. I read the letter in your face; 
The old man's doom is seal'd — not quite, but yet 
Almost as sure ? 

Rupert. You have guess'd it, mother. 

Madame Roselheim. Rupert, 
Is there no chance for him ? 

Rupert. There is a chance. 

Madame Roselheim. What is't, my son ? 

Rupert. I may not tell you, madam. 

Madame Roselheim. Were it a breach of confidence ? 

Rupert. No, mother — 
Of duty only. Movements, which are language 
To a soldier, give me hopes, and these I am free 
To share with you, and do so — not their cause. 

Madame Roselheim. Tell me his plight in every cir- 
cumstance. 

Rupert. Learn it in one— he dies within two days, 
Unless 

Madame Roselheim. What, Rupert ? 



48 MAID OF MARIENDORPl*. 

Rupert. Learn the rest from hope ! 
Mother, you said the Governor of Prague 
Was schoolfellow and choice comrade of my father, 
From boyhood even to majority — 
That golden age of life, when hearts that join 
Are riveted by metal weatherproof, 
That shines and keeps, while those it holds decay ! 
You would have sent to him ; nay, gone yourself; 
But, save in extreme need, I would not have it. 
Send now — indite a letter — state your claim, 
And crave delay to the last fraction 
Of time that duty will allow — and let 
Our Esther be the bearer, under guidance 
Of this good man. Come there no other profit, 
'Twill place her nearer Meeta — should she need her. 
She ne'er divines my care had conn'd this news [ Aside. 
Before this herald brought it. 

Madame Roselheim. Esther ! 

Esther. Madam ? 

Madame Roselheim. Fear you to go to Prague ? 

Esther. To no place, madam, 
For you. 

Madame Roselheim. 'Tis with a letter to the Governor. 

Esther. I'll take it, madam : I'll do any thing 
To leave the camp. 
Madame Roselheim. Why, what's the matter, Esther ? 

Esther. That boy — that Huns, is going fast to ruin. 
^Before they stop, they'll make a soldier of him. 
Already has he got their swagger, madam ; 
Drinks, swears — yes, madam, on my life he does ! 
I'll never take the poor lad home again 
The simple thing he was. 

Madame Roselheim. Then, Esther, take 
The boy along with you. 

Esther. I thank you, madam t 
Not that I care for Hans; but innocence 
Is a rare thing, and should not be corrupted, 
While those who know its value can prevent it. 
So as you think it right that the poor lad 
Be placed in safety while it can avail him, 
I'll take him with me, madam. 

Madame Roselheim. Do so, Esther; 
Go, find him straight, then come at once to me.[Goes out. 

Rupert. I have a charge for thee, concerning Meeta ; 
But this at once — should any one you love 



MAID OP MARIENDORPT. 49 

Remain in Pragae on Friday night, take care 
They keep the house. You understand me, Esther ? 
Esther. Humph ! Yes, I think I do ! But where is 
Hans? 
Upon my life, I quite forget myself 
With care for him. It fits not he and I 
Should go together, and be nothing more 
Than Hans and Esther ! I have quite forgot 
Appearances. And what will people say 1 
Here's a dilemma ! If I leave the lad 
Behind me, he is ruin'd. They'll be putting, 
'Mongst other things, sweethearts into his head. 
And I am ruin'd if I take him with me, 
And he no right to me, nor I to him ! 
I could not pass him for my brother — none 
Would credit that the selfsame mother bore us ! 
'Tis out of nature he could be my son. 
What shall I do for sake of the poor lad ? 
There's no contrivance I can hit upon, 
But to make Hans my husband. Well-a-day ! 
To think that ever it should come to this ; 
But, if it can't be help'd, as well be done 
To-day as this day year. 'Tis very plain 
I must be sacrificed, or Hans be lost — 
And that were cruelty — that must not be ! 
So, I've made up my mind ! I'll marry him ! 

SCENE II. — Another part of the Camp. 
Enter Hans and Rodolph. 

Hans. And you have been in battle ? 

Rodolph. Yes. 

Hans. How often ? 

Rodolph. A dozen times, 

Hans. And never got a wound ? 

Rodolph. Only a scratch, 

Hans. I would not mind a scratch, — 
I would not mind a dozen scratches ! If 
It went no further, bayonets and swords 
To me were things I'd take no more account of 
Than pins and needles. But where was the scratch ? 

Rodolph. In the left side — a bayonet graz'd me there. 

Hans. Odds, that was near ! wasn't it ? very near ! 
I should not mind one in the foot or leg, 
The hand or arm — but when you come to that, 

E 



50 MAID OF MARIENDORFT. 

Fighting is very dangerous ! I don't think 
That I should like to be a soldier. 

Rodolph. Yet 
You are the very cut of one. 

Hans. The cut? 
Am I tho'? 

Rodolph. One could see it with half an eye. 

Hans. It must be very plain. 

Rodolph. Yon were intended 
By nature for a soldier. 

Hans. Isn't it strange 
That nature never told me so ? 

Rodolph. She left you 
To find it out yourself. It is so plain. 

Hans. And I to live to five and-twenty years 
And not to see it — No ! — nor any one 
To tell me on't till you did ! 

Rodolph. Friends are few, 
One may go far ere find one. 

Hans. Tell me what 
You mean by the cut of a soldier, that hereafter 
I know myself. 

Rodolph. A sharp eye — a smart nose. 

Hans. Have I such eye and nose ? 

Rodolph. You have. 

Hans. Indeed 1 
I never dreamt on't ! I have a smart nose 
And a sharp eye 1 Now would I give a crown 
That this were told to Esther ! So ! Go on. 

Rodolph. You have a pair of shoulders. 

Hans. La ! you jest I 
Speak you the truth now ? mean you what you say ? 
Have I indeed a pair of shoulders ? 

Rodolph. Yes. 

Hans. 'Tis plain I never knew myself before ! 
A sharp eye, a smart nose, and pair of shoulders ! 
I wonder what would Esther say to this ! 
Anything more 1 

Rodolph. Ay marry ! many a thing. 
A chest that's high and full — a front-rank chest. 

Hans. Never mind that — I like the rear-rank better. 
Were I a soldier I would always fight 
In the rear-rank — I could do wonders there — 
Incredible and never heard of things ! — 
What call you those who fight upon their knees 



MAID OF MARIENIDORIT. 51 

And stomachs, or ensconce themselves behind 
Hedges and trees, and when the enemy 
Advances, make a run of it, and leave 
The rest to fight the battle out ? 

Rodolph. VVe call them 
Sharp-shooters. 

Hans. That's the Very name ! I'll be 
A sharp-shooter. A sharp-shooter had need 
Slave a sharp eye, and I have one, you know : 
Haven't 1 1 I'm contented with a chest 
That's high and full, but not a front-rank one : 
And so a sharp-shooter if anything ! 
We've settled that — Go on — Were Esther here ! 
She little dreams that I am such a man ! 

Rodolph. Your limbs are set right under you. 

Hans. They are? You do not say so ? 
And have I got straight legs with all the rest ? 
Odds what a man I am ! I think I'll be 
A soldier* 

Rodolph. You'd be sure of it, but once 
You saw yourself dress'd in your uniform. 

Hans. 'Twould make a little change. 

Rodolph. A little, say you ! 
'Twould make a hero of you. 

Hans. I should like 
To see myself a hero ! What was that ? [A shot without. 

Rodolph. Only a shot. 

Hans. O, was it nothing more ? 
A shot ! I thought 'twas something else J who minds 
A shot ? 

Rodolph. 'Tis clear you do not. 

Hans. No — not I ! 
I fired a shot once when I was a boy, 
And kill'd a sparrow — as I live I did ! 
I to be startled by a shot ! (shot again) Odds life ! 
That's shameful waste of powder, and in time 
Of war too. 

Rodolph. Here! put on this cap of mine, 
And show me how you look in it. 

Hans. I please you ? 

Rodolph. Gods, Sir, you make a show more warlike far 
Than would a whole platoon with shoulder'd arms 
And bayonets fix'd. 

Hans. What were it, did you add 
My body to my head ! 



52 MAID OF MARIKNDORPT. 

Rodolph. To go by rule 
You would be worth a regiment ! How fine 
Your eye looks when it rolls ! Here, take my sword 
And flourish it. 

Hans. What think'st me match to now I 

Rodolph. A whole brigade — Foot — Horse — Artillery, 
To sweep a field ! 

Hans. I'll be a soldier. 

[Esther — entering and aside. 

Esther. Hans ! 

Rodolph. Then take the bounty. 

Esther. Take it if he dares! 

Hans. I never said I'd take it. 

Rodolph. But you said 
You'd be a soldier. 

Hans. Yes ; with Esther's leave. 

Esther. O ! was it so ? — What do you with that cap ? 
Take't off, or I will put one on your head 
Will fit it better ! Flourishing a sword ! 
Have you a mind the boy should cut himself, 
You man of war ? — Give back the sword and cap. 
Sir, you may sell your own limbs if you like, 
You know the worth of them ; but for the lad's, 
They're not his own : and not for market, Sir. 

Rodolph. And is the bargain off? 

Hans. And don't you hear 
What Esther says ? — It were a valiant man 
Would gainsay her ! — I would not for my head ! 

Rodolph (looking alternately at Esther and Hans) I see! 

Hans. We'll talk of it another time 
When she's not by. 

Rodolph. (to Esther). Well : I'll let off the lad 
So that I get a kiss ? 

Hans, (placing himself 'between them). You get not that! 
Nay, an I die for it, you get not that! 
Nay, an you come with swords and bayonets, 
Bullets and cannon-balls, you get not that ! 

Esther. Hans is a man ! — Take my advice and know 

(to Rodolph) 
A lion without proving of his. fangs. 
Touch me ! and better for you you had been 
In prison keeping than at large to-day. 
Man never kiss'd me yet, Sir — 

Hans. Only Hans. 

Esther. Nor e'er shall kiss me, Sir J 



MAID CF MARIENDORPT. 53 

Hans. Save I'm the man. 

Esther. I like a smirking swaggering- turkey-cock, 
That eyes a woman as he need but look 
And swallow her ! 

Rodolph. I'll see your spark again. [Goes out. 

Esther. See he don't prove a fire and scorch you, Sir I 
Hans, you have acted like a man to-day, 
You're a good lad ; but you were never made 
Match for a world like this, to get thro' it 
By yourself. — A pity 'tis you have not aunt, 
Sister nor mother, that would look to you, 
Nor honest woman that might serve for such, 
And, maybe, love you better ! 

Hans. Esther I — Esther ! — 

Esther. Why^ bless ms^ Hans ! you're always saying 
that, 
'Tis very plain there's something you would have, 
But what that something is, not quite so clear ; 
Speak out, Hans, and take heart — I cannot read 
The stars, you know ; I'm not a conjuror, 
Or a diviner, or a doctor, who 
Finds hidden ailments out. I'm nothing but 
An honest simple woman, that would do 
A kind turn for thee, knew she but the way : 
SSo waist's* thou anything, speak out, good Hans. 

Hans. I want a wife. 

Esther. You do not say so I 

Hans. Yes, 
1 do. — Now, wanted yoll a husband, Esther, 
How well we should be match'd ! 

Esther. I want a husband ! — 
But you do want a wdfe — that makes a change : 
And though I do not want a husband, Hans, 
Yet I might bring myself, you know, to take one, 
To save the wits or life of a poor lad 
Like you, that has no mother, sister, aunt, 
To look to him ! Know you where bides the Chaplain 
O' the regiment ? 

Hans. I do. 

Esther. I'll talk with him. 
Do you not lead the way ! 
What, are you not in haste to get a wife ? 
I though' you were. 

Hans. I am ; but am so pleased, 
I know not what to do ! — to go or stay, 
To laugh or cry, to talk or hold my tongue. e* 



54 MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 

Esther. Poor, honest lad ! A pity 'twere the world 
Should take thee in ! Thou ought'st to have a wife, 
If but to look to thee ! 'Twould not be right 
To leave thee without one, a day, an hour ; 
And such a friend as I'm to thee, at hand. 
Would it, Hans ? The poor lad ! he's quite confounded^! 
How interesting does he look. — Come, Hans ! 
You know the way to the Chaplain's — I believe — 
I think — I'm almost sure I'll take you, Hans ! 

[ They go out, Esther leaning upon him. 

SCENE III.— The Fortress of Prague— A room. 

Gen. Kleiner, (without.) Wait you without. 

Adolpha. (without.) We will, Sir. 

Gen. Kleiner (without.) Idenstein, 
Keep guard upon her. 

Idenstein. (without.) There's no need, Sir. 

Gen. Kleiner. No — ■ 
A wife most docile — let her have her way ! 

[Enters with the Lieutenant-Governor. 
Bring here the prisoner. Do not say 'tis I 
That want to see him, nor apprise him how 
I am accompanied. — (Lieutenant-Governor goes ovt.)— 

I had hoped this task 
Would have been wholly spared me, — so relapse 
Of consciousness did follow on relapse 
When nature once gave way, till nearly half 
The interval that spares him life was out. 
'But she recovers, and at once demands 
Fulfilment of my word. — What now my course ? 
A veteran take the field without a plan — 
Or take the field at all with mutiny 
In the ranks ! How come I here ? What brought me 

here? 
A regiment of foot, or horse, or what ? 
Can I believe I came of mine own will ? 
With aid of mine own limbs, when I would be 
A thousand miles away ? I must be mad, — 
I, that can't bear to see a caged bird ! 
Mad for a hundred ducats ! I would give 
That sum — ay, twice as much, to any one 
Would bind me hand and foot and take me hence! 

Re-enter Lieutenant with Muhldenau. 
Lieutenant. The prisoner. 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 55 

Gen. Kleiner. Leave us, good Lieutenant. — (Lieute- 
nant goes out.) — Sir — 
Muhldenau. Your pleasure I 

Gen. Kleiner. Pleasure, Sir ? I have no pleasure ! 
I'm an unhappy man, that with the power 
To do his pleasure cannot do it, Sir. 
I know the track I ought to take, and would, 
Yet always go the way that's contrary. 
p Sir, were a fever next door to me, and 
I knew removing further would prevent me 
From taking it, I would remove next door! 
There is in some men a fatality 
That knowledge is more loss than profit to them, 
For what doth seem their bane as clear as day 
Is ever sure to be the thing they do, — 
As sight of a descending shell, 'tis known, 
Will fix the man who sees it to the spot, 
Where he is sure to die, with limbs at large 
As his that walks or runs. 

Muhldenau. I know you, Sir ! 
The gracious man they took me first before, 
Who pitied me ; with patient audience heard me ; 
Enjoin'd them gently to entreat me, and, 
Far as their duty warranted, to make 
The pains of bondage light. 

Gen. Kleiner. Have they obey'd me ? 

Muhldenau. They have. 

Gen. Kleiner. You want no comforts they can give 
you? 

Muhldenau. They have done all they could to comfort 
me, 
And Heaven has done the rest. I am to die 
On Saturday — I ask'd not at what hour 1 
Will't please you tell me, Sir ? 

Gen. Kleiner. Sir ? 

Muhldenau. I perceive 
It gives you pain to do't. Don't heed for me — 
He feels not death that uses life to die ! 
The hour, Sir? 

Gen. Kleiner. Nine o'clock. 

Muhldenau. What kind of death 
Am I to suffer ? 

Gen. Kleiner. Sir ? 

Muhldenau. I merely ask, 
Because there's something in the form of death 



56 MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 

To poor humanity, however brave 

To meet it. I would know it ere it comes. — 

Look at it — meet it with accustom'd eye, — 

Not to be startled by it at the time. 

I should be all myself — not that I trust 

In my own strength — I have a firmer stay. 

What death am 1 to die ? — Is't by the sword ? 

Gen. Kleiner. It is ! 

Muhldenau. I'm sorry, sir, to give you pain. 

Gen. Kleiner. Sir, I can fight .' — I love to fight ! I 
think 
The blast of a trumpet music! — Beat a drum 
In concert with the shrill throat of fife^ 
And my head dances ! — It is mirth to me 
To hear the running roar of musquetry 
From wing to wing, along the blazing line ! 
And when the cannon thunders clap on clap, 
So thick there* s not a breath of pause between* 
I tower as I myself did hurl the bolts ! 
I have seen death on every side of me, 
And given it not a thought ! I have ta'en wounds* 
And never felt them in the battle's heat ! 
But I can't bear to look upon a man 
About to die, and in cold blood ! I own 
I am a coward there. Forgive me, sir ! 
Have you a friend, sir, whom you wish to see? 

Muhldenau. Is there one near me 1 You're a merciful 
Considerate man — you'd know when you would raise 
A hope — you would not raise one but to kill it! 
Sir, I had learn'd to think a boundary, 
'Twixt me and all things living 'neath the sun* 
Was drawn, and no more to be cross'd by me 
Than the dark frontier of the grave once pass'd ! 
Bat you have breathed a word, and it is gone ! 
I have a child, Sir ! — If she knows my plight, 
She's here in Prague— she's at my prison door ! 
Is she ? — Is it of her you speak ?— That sob — 
In the next room ! Is it my daughter's heart 
That's bursting there ?— Is it ?— My Meeta !— Come ! — 
Thou know'st thy father ! — Fear not for him — come ! 
He has strength enough to bear the sight of thee ; 
But not to want it longer, when he thinks 
Thou'rt near him ! Come to him ! Come — come ! my 
child ! 

[Meeta enters, rushing into her father's arms 
Adolpiia and Idenstein following. 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 



57 



Meeta. You bear it, father '.—See '.—and so do I ! 
O, I was right ! — No door that man can shut, 
But Heaven can open ! Day did follow day ! 
Chance pass'd away, and chance ! Yet, spite of all, 
I looked at hope, and would not see it dwindled ; 
And 'tis fulfilled * I have pass'd yoi.r prison door ! — 
1 see you ! hear you ! I am in your arms ! 

[Muhldenau and Meeta retire. 

Gen. Kleiner. Where can Adolpha be, and Idenstein ? 
What can they be about 1 What do they mean 
By staying here ? Why don't they call me hence ? 
How cool they stand ! how very cool ! while I 
Am writhing ! Ay ! A pair of callous hearts ! 
They would be thought to weep — and if they do, 
They like it ! Cough, and seem to wipe your eyes ! 
Do ! Can't you go, if you can't bear it ? Don't 
You know there is a door ? and can't you go, 
And take me with you ? Idenstein ! Adolpha ! 

Adolpha. Sir ! 

Gen. Kleiner. Madam ! 

Idenstein. General ! 

Gen. Kleiner. Sir ! I hope you're pleased ? 

Adolpha. At what, dear sir ? 

Gen. Kleiner. To see two human hearts 
Bleeding, that you stay there as you were wood, 
Or lead, or stone, instead of flesh and blood ! 

Adolpha. We thought your duty, sir 

Gen. Kleiner. My duty ! Pshaw ! 
You know you never let me do my duty ! 

Adolpha. We will withdraw, if you will let us, father I 

General Kleiner. " Let us !" — You never do but what 
you're let! [towards the door. 

[Gen. Kleiner, Idenstein, and Adolpha, move softly 

Muhldenau. Who is that ] 

Meeta. Which? 

Muhldenau. She that's moving towards the door! 

Meeta. The lady that obtain'd admittance for me, 

Muhldenau. Bid her stop ! 

Meeta. My father ? 

Muhldenau. Lady, stop ! The face, 
Well as the form ! — I saw thy mother's form, 
And now I see her face ! Do you not see 
Your mother 1 

Meeta. Father, you forget — she died 
When I was but an infant ! 



58 MAID 0S> MARIENDORPfi, 

MuJildenau. True ! — you're right ! 
I had forgot ! Then see your mother now-^=- 
As she was at your age, Meeta ! — Yes ! — my child ! 

Meeta. Sir ! — father ! — 'tis the daughter of the Go* 
vernor.' 

Idenstein. His mind is shaken by imprisonment ! 

Muhldenau* No, Sir! my heart is struck ! struck by the 
form 
And face of one that's dead — long dead — yet stands 
Alive again before me ! 

Meeta. Dearest father, 
It is the daughter of the Governor, 
The Governor that's there ! 

Muhlden.au. I beg her pardon, 
I beg her pardon, Meeta, yet I feel, 
A& I were asking pardon of my child. 
Sir, were those eyes your wife's ? — Those perfect arches, 
As though art set a copy unto nature, 
To try her cunning ! and that domy forehead 
Of feeling, speaking marble ! and the rest 
O' the features, with the form therewith consorting ! 
Were they your wife's ? — If so, they once belong' d 
To mine ! — I cannot look on her and think 
She's not my child. [ Turns up. 

Idenstein. Why are you lost, Adolpha ? [Aside. 

Adolpha. I cannot help it ! I am strangely moved. 

[Aside. 

Idenstein. At what, my love ? 
* Adolpha, (aloud.) To hear a father's voice, 
As did it never sound to me before ! 

Muhldenau. What said'st thou, Meeta ? 

Meeta. 'Twas the lady spoke. 

Muhldjnau. The voice too ! It doth talk to me of 
home, 
As from my hearth — my very hearth it came! 
But she's the daughter of the Governor ! 

[Retires to the hack of the stage and sitt. 

Meeta. As his heart drops the hope, mine takes it up ! 

Gen. Kleiner. Idenstein — 

Idenstein. Sir — 

Gen. Kleiner. Let us go. 

Idenstein. Adolpha ! 

Meeta. Stop! 
No ! — Not a trait ! No more resembles him 
Than I! — while as I look at her, methinks, 
Touches as of a face I can't recal, 



MAID OF MaRIEXDORPT. 59 

Yet feel as once I knew, start up to me. 
You're troubled, Sir — nor yet are you at ease, 

(to Idenstein) 
So many tokens call him owner, yet 
The precious thing that bears them not his own ! 
Incredible ! impossible — my heart 
Protests against it! — yearns for her! cries out 
She's his and mine, and will not be gainsaid ! 
Are you the daughter of the Governor ? 
Adolpha. I am — I am his only child ! 
Meeta. You are ! 
I kiss your hand and ask your pardon ! but — 
What scar is this upon your wrist ? — No knife 
Could make this wound, and in your father's house 
How came you by it ? Was it by a knife ? 
Adolpha. No, by a sword. 
Meeta. When? 

Adolpha. When I was an infant ! 
Meeta. Where? 

Adolpha. At the siege of Magdeburg ! 
Meeta. Gracious Heaven ! 
How came you there ? 
Adolpha. I know not. 
Meeta, (to Gen. Kleiner.) Sir, are you 
Her father ? Is he, Sir, her father ? — (to Idenstein) — 

Both 
Do look at one another ! Providence ! 
What can this mean ? Why are you silent, Sir ? 
If she you call your daughter — Look at me ! 
Don't turn away ! — If she you call your child 
Was in the siege of Magdeburg, I lost 
A sister there. — Is this she ? O, a word 
To save a bursting heart ! Her nurse, whose hand 
I held by, carried her, — a soldier seized 
The woman by the hair — 

Gen. Kleiner. I smote him down. 
And saved the child. 

Meeta. 'Tis she! She's ours! She's found! My 

sister ! 
Muhldenau. Meeta. 
Thy sister ! What ! in one another's arms ! 
Give her to me ! 

Meeta. Here, take her to thy heart ! 
Into it, father ! Sister ! Father ! Heaven ! 

(Muhldenau and Adolpha embrace — Meeta rushes up 
to them, and kneeling, clasps them both. — Act ends. 



60 MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 

ACT. V. 

SCENE I. — A room in Joseph's House. 

Enter Meeta and Adolpha. 

Adolpha. What place is this, and wherefore am I 

here ? 
Meeta. Art thou afraid of me, my sister ? 
Adolpha. No. 
Meeta. Then fear not where I bring thee, nor the 

cause. 

! my new other self, were it a time, 

I'd give thee vouchers of heart-coined words 
To prove thy safety — good of every kind — 
Dear to me — worlds, aye, worlds beyond my own. 
Dost trust in me ? 

Adolpha. I do. 

Meeta. Wilt do my bidding — 
Wilt do't to-night, however questionable, 
Inexplicable, strange ? 

Adolpha. Your words are darkness, 
Which yet I trust myself to, with your looks 
Of Truth and Love for guides. I'll do your will. 

Meeta. My sister, my dear sister, let me think, 
And lay your cheek the while a space to mine ; 
There, there, thou prompt'st me sweetly with the touch 
Of thy sweet cheek. I have comfort for thee, sister — 
Our father will not die. 
1 Adolpha. How know you that ? 
The Governor has heard no tidings yet — 
The distance greater than his courier, 
Despatch' d on the instant, with the prayer for mercy, 
Could compass in day .' 

Meeta. He will not die. 

Adolpha. Mv sister ! 

Meeta. What? 

Adolpha. Your words are oracles 

1 trust to, with a thousand human fears 
To shake my heart. 

Meeta. Our father will not die ! 
Now listen ; there will be a storm to-night — 
Fierce rain with deluge, high uprooting wind, 
Thunder and thunder-bolts. Look in mine eyes, 
And let them serve thee for interpreters, 
To make my dark words clear. 'Twill break around 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 

Our father's prison ; there its rage will play, 
Nor, till it bursts an entrance open to him, 
To set him free, stop smiting ! Can'st thou read, 
Without a glossary 1 This house will be 
Beyond its range ! 

Adolpha. My husband, and my father ! 
I cannot help it, he has been my father 
In, all things but my blood. 

Meela. There's nothing wrong. 
'Tis very right. I'll call him father too : 
So think him, feel him too, for thy dear sake. 
And now thy promise, sister ! Weigh my words. 
Thy husband and the Governor may fall; 
Here they are safe. — Don't interrupt me, sister, 
Time's brief and swift, and action must be instant, 
Or not at all. — Thou must indite a letter, 
Urging their prompt attendance here — alone — 
On matter of as pressing moment as 
Question of life or death. I know the thought 
Thou would'st give utterance to — tis not an act 
Of treachery, but duty. — Thou did'st piomise 
Obedience to me. 

Aiolplia. Hardly dost thou task me, 
But I'll respect my word. 

Meeta. Then prove it straight, 
Sit down and write the letter. O, my sister, 
Confide in me ! do it without stint ! with cheer ! — 
That's right! — you will ! — go on ! 

Adolpha writes. — Enter Joseph. 

Joseph. The trusty friends 
I told you of are come. 

Meeta. I thank you. Armed ? 

Joseph. A weapon each beneath his gaberdine. 

Meeta. How many are Ihey ? 

Joseph. Twenty. 

Meeta. That is right ; 
Their number makes resistance idle. Yet 
As courage does not take account of odds, 
And slightest scath to them were wound to us, 
'Twere well they should disarm your visiters 
On the unprepared instant. Is it not strange 
1 grow more calm as the dread crisis comes 
Of this momentous night ? You are aware 
Whatever befals, the motive of the act 

F 



61 



62 MAID OF MARIENDORI'T. 

Holds you absolved : — besides, it is not yours, 
But mine ! 

Joseph. I take it all on mine own head. 

Meeta. There mustn't be a light when they come in, 
Lest it betray thy friends ! — 
Go send me now 

That servant of the Governor who came 
Along with us. Is't written, sister ? 

Adolpha. Yes. 

Meeta. Thank you, my sister; now direct it. 

Enter Governor's Servant. 

Sir, seek straight the Governor, and give him this. 

[Servant goes out. 
Now, sister, come, and be thou strong of heart : 
I'll give thee clearer reasons on the way. 
This night of death shallbr ng a day of life. 

[They go out. 

SCENE II. — Another room in Joseph's house. 

Enter Hans. 
Hans. I wonder when the honeymoon begins ! 
I'm one day married, and no glimpse on't yet ! 
Or shall I ever have a honeymoon, 
Or is there such a thing ? Until I see it, 
I'll not believe it. Twenty leagues of travel 
Is not a honeymoon ! Strange company, 
That care no doits for me, nor I for them, 
Are not a honeymoon ! A dinner snapp'd, 
Not eaten, can't be call'd a honeymoon ! 
'Tis Esther's fault ! No sooner were we married, 
Then off she sets for Prague — nor leaves me choice, 
Except to stay behind, or come with her. 
Of course I do the latter, as beseems 
A married man. I know my duty, but 
I see no honeymoon, or chance of it! 
No merry-making ! — not a soul I know 
To give me joy ! No presents, visitings, 
Feastings, and dancing, as I know are wont 
At other people's marriages, with scores 
Of little tricks and rogueries they play. 
I have not had a laugh — and here I'm left, 
Five hours alone ! Is this a honeymoon ? 
And if it is, I would I ne'er had been 
A married man ! I'm fit to hang myself 

Enter Esther. 
Esther. Husband! 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 63 

Hans. Well, wife ? 

Esther. You look not happy ! 

Hans. No. 

Esther. And why, dear chuck ? 

Hans. Because I am not so. 

Esther. Not happy ! 

Hans. No. 

Esther. Why, am not I thy wife ? 
JTreat I not thee kindly and lovingly ? 
Do I not call thee nubby, spouse, and chuck, 
And every other kind of tender names ? 
What want'st thou to content thee, dearest love ? 

Hans. I want a honeymoon. 

Esther. A honeymoon ? 
Why this is it. 'Tis on, my honey-love, 
And almost all to come. 

Hans. 'Tis on? 'Tis not! 
Be this the honeymoon, I'm sick of it ! 
I Avant no more of it ! Will have no more. 

Esther. O cruel — cruel Hans. 

Hans. If I had thought 
To pass such honeymoon as this, I ne'er 
Had married. 

Esther. Would you have me break my heart ? 

Hans. I have no comfort with thee. 

Esther. Do I live 
To hear thee say so ? 

Hans. No delight in thee. 

Esther. No, Hans ? — You'll make me wish that I were 
dead ! 

Hans. I took thee for a helpmate — thou art none, 
I scarce set eyes upon thee ! Thou art out ! 
Five hours and more, and hast not told me where. 

Esther. I went on business, Hans, that's not my own. 

Hans. Thou hast no business with such business ! Fit 
I mope at home, and have a wife that ought 
To keep me company ! — I'm fairly turn'd 
From honey into gall ! — What business was it, 
Took thee away ? 

Esther. I may not tell. 

Hans. You must ! 

Esther. I won't ! 

Hans. I'll show her, I'll be master ! Now, 
Or never — I'm resolved! -One whisper'd me, 
As from the chaplain's we came out — " Beware ! 



64 MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 

Look to your wife, sir!" — 'twas the corporal 
Tried to beguile me — " mind ! or she'll put on 
What is no proper part of woman's gear !" 
So I'll begin in time ! What bus'ness was it 
Took thee away ? 

Esther, {gently.) I will not tell thee, Hans ! 

Hans, (angrily.) You wont ! 

Esther, (more angrily.) I won't, Hans! — Mind what 
you're about ! 
You know me! 

Hans, (angrily.) Yes ! — but yet you know not me ! — 
I will not have it ! — won't allow it ! 

Esther. What? 

Hans. To have thee gadding in the honeymoon — 
If honeymoon it be 1 

Esther. If honeymoon 
It be? 

Hans. I say it is no honeymoon ! — 
Where is the wine ? — where are the cakes ? — where are 
The sports and games ? — where are the friends and neigh- 
bours ? 
Why are we here, and not in Mariendorpt 1 
I thought we should go thither, when I made 
A wife of thee ! 

Esther. You made a wife of me ? 
You say it, sir ? — 'Twas I madeyOu a husband! 

Hans. And if you did, I'll keep myself a husband — 
I will be master ! 
t Esther. Hear him ! 

Hans. Lord! 

Esther. O dear ! 

Hans. And lord of that, I'll not be left alone 
Again ! — I won't! — to fret myself from wine 
To vinegar ! 

Esther. Look, sir! 

Hans. Look, ma'am ! 

Esther. I tell you 

Hans. And I tell you ! 

Esther. I'll make you know yourself! 

Hans. You will ] I'll run away to Mariendorpt ! 

Esther (frightened.) You won't, dear Hans ? 

Hans. I'll be divorced — I will ! 

Esther. You'll kill me, Hans ! 

Hans. I'll take another wife i 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 65 

Esther (crying.) O dear ! O dear ! 
Was it for this, I Jet you win my heart — 
O'ercome my hatred of your tyrant sex — 
And from my state of happy singlehood, 
Transform me to a miserable wife ? — 

Esther ! Esther ! woman never knows 
When she's well off, until she is undone ! 

Hans. Don't cry ! 'Twill spoil your eyes I my wrath 
m is soothed, 

I'm your own Hans again— your loving Hans ! 
I'm pacified — I'm calm'd. The storm's blown o'er ; 
All's smooth and still, no ripple now, nor breath. 

Esther. I'll tell thee all, Hans. 

Hans. No, you shan't ! I say 

1 will not hear a word — a syllable, 

As I'm your husband. Let her have her way, 
So that she keeps to wearing her own clothes ! 

Esther. I thank you, Hans. I see you love me still. 

Hans. Love you ? Adore you ! Idolize you ! But 
'Twill never do to want our honeymoon! [They retire. 

Enter abruptly General Kletner and Idensteik-,/o/- 
lowed by Joseph. 

Gen. Kleiner. What means this violence ? What men 
were those 
Disarm'd us in the hall ? The lady where, 
That sent for us ? 

Joseph. No ill is meant you, Sir, 
But good. The men disarm'd you, are your guards, 
Trusty for you to death. The lady's gone. 

Gen. Kleiner. 'Tis all thy wife's contriving, Idenstein ! 

Idenstein. You know the value of a thousand ducats ? 

Joseph. I do. 

Idenstein. I'll give you them to set us free. 

Joseph. Took I the sum, 'twould be to peril that 
Were worth it to you countless times — your lives ! 

Idenstein. Our lives ! 

Joseph. They are in my care. 

Gen. Kleiner. Look, honest friend ; 
Wilt thou consent to set us free at once, 
There's not a unit in two thousand ducats, 
But I will count thee down. 

Idenstein. Thou art a Jew, 
And wilt not list to reason ? 



66 MAID OF MARfENDORPT. 

Joseph. Not such reason 
As that. There's not in Prague that hulky sum 
Could weigh — the matter of a line — the scale 
Wherein my pledge to keep you here is put — 
My love — my gratitude — my principle— 
Which I respect, my Lord, altho' a Jew ! 

Gen. Kleiner. Dost thou reflect that I'm the Governor? 
That I can punish thee ? That I can throw thee 
Into a dungeon ? put thee to the rack ? 
Load thee with chains, consign thee to the galleys? — 
Hang thee, good Jew ? 

Joseph. I know it very well. 
I know thou hast the power, altho' thou lack'st 
The will, to execute a cruel deed ; 
And when befits the penalty to fall, 
Dost use the keen sword with a melting eye. 
Every one knows the Governor of Prague. 

Gen. Kleiner. Every one knows him for the fool he is! 

Joseph. Altho' a Jew, Sir, I do honour you. 
The hospitality I force upon you — 
Except compulsion — I have taken care 
Should stand acquitted of all disrespect. 
That room presents refreshment — that beyond 
Repose. One night alone you are my guest, 
And shalt to-morrow fully learn the cause 
Why you are here, and then be free to go. 
So pray you find contentment, if you can, 
Where profit cannot come of discontent. [Goes out. 

^ (As Esther and Hans are following, Idenstein 

beckons the former.) 

Idenstein. Hark you, fair lady, you are beautiful. 

Esther. I know I am. 

Hans. She knows she is. 

Idenstein. She is; 
And beauty argues goodness — and if goodness 
Be not made up, 'mongst other precious things, 
Of generosity, 'tis negative, 
And proves of no account ! 

Hans. What's negative ? 

Idenstein. A diamond necklace claspM around your 
neck, 
A score of ducats to such several drop, 
And each the twentieth fraction of the set, 
Would not be out of place. Is there a window 
Whence one might drop himself into the street? 



MAID OF MARFEXDORPT. 67 

Hans. No, there is not ! You put no necklace, Sir, 
About her neck I 'Tis mine, and not her own ! 
Go, Esther ! 

Esther. Sir, I am not to be bribed. 
Hans. That's right — but go. [Esther goes out. 

Jdenstein. You are her husband, friend ? 
Hans. I am. 

Idenstein. And well she choose you. 
Hans. So she did. 
Idenstein. Art thou in service ? 
Hans. Yes. 

Idenstein. Would'st thou not rather 
Be thy own master. 

Idenstein. Who would not ? 
Idenstein. Would'st like 
To be a hero ? 

Esther (without.) Hans! 
Hans. I'm coming 1 — Yes, (to Idenstein,) 
Knew I a way was safe. 

Idenstein. You have a scruple 
To be a soldier ! 

Hans. A small scruple. 
Esther (without.) Hans. 
Hans. I'm coming, 

Idenstein. Would you like to have a farm ? 
Have your own serving-men and serving-maids? 
Keep your own swine and kine ? Ride your own horse ?- ,- 
You'd look a man on horseback ! 
Hans. So I would. 

Idenstein. All these are thine, wilt go an errand first. 
Harts. Where? 
Esther (without.) Hans ! 
Hans. I'm coming, Esther. 
Esther. Come along ! 
Hans. Where ? 

Esther (appearing at the door.) Hans ! 
Hans. I'm coming, Esther. 

Esther. Come at once ! [Pulls him off. 

Idenstein. We are a pair of birds, Sir, in a cage. 
Gen. Kleiner. Birds ?— We are fools ! This comes of 
my good nature ! 
It still has been my ruin ! I was made 
A dunce by my mother, for my fondness of her ! 
What was lack'd in spoiling me, aunts then made up— 
I was so docile, bidable to them I 



68 MAID OF MARIENDORFT. 

My sisters brought me to destruction by 
Improving my good temper, which they made 
Their ready scape-goat in all kinds of scrapes ; 
And which their gentle friends in dimity 
Did use, to get me into divers straits, 
From which to extricate myself were only 
Entanglement anew ! My wife did crown 
My ruin ! My sweejt disposition made her 
So fond of me, to please her I would feign 
Sickness, that she might play my nurse. One thing 
Alone was wanting to my quite undoing — 
A child, and that, as nature would not find me, 
I must provide myself with — thy Adolpha — 
Who for her own ends keeps us prisoners here ! 
What's to be done ? 

Idenstein. To bear what must be borne. 
They that command us are a host to one. 

Gen. Kleiner. Let's i i, then, and submit. 

Idenstein. I follow, Sir. 

Gen. Kleiner. What I was ever, a good-natured man ! 

[They go out. 

SCENE THE LAST— A dungeon. 

Muhldenau asleep on a couch — Meeta sitting near, with 
Adolpha kneeling by her, sleeping with her head on 
Meeta's lap. 

Enter Lieutenant. 

Meeta. Softly ! — They sleep ! — Your news is bad ? 

Lieutenant. It is. 
The answer is arrived. With fruitless search 
They have sought the Governor : not finding him, 
On me, as second in command, devolved 
The painful task to break the packet open, 
Which gives no hope of life. 

Meeta. It was expected : 
We are prepared. — So, please you, softly tread, 
As you departagain, — -(Lieut, goes out.) — He has awaked 

her ! — 
Sleep, sister, sleep ! 

Adolpha (starting.) What time of night is it? 

Meeta. It is no longer night, but morning, sister- 

Adolpha. Morning? 

Meeta. The chimes of a new day have struck 
Again and yet again ! 



MAID OP MAR1ENDORPT. W 

Adolpha. How often, sister ? 

Meeta. Thrice. 

Adolpha. It is very still. 

Meeta. Too still, but we shall hear 
The sound of stirring shortly-. 

Adolpha. You are sure ? 

Meeta. I am. 

Adolpha. You comfort me — you are so calm ! 

Meeta. Sister, we both had need be calm ! Look there ! 

Adolpha. How sound our father sleeps ! Knows he our 
hope ? 

"Meeta. No ! it might draw his thoughts from better hope 
Hope that doth ever in possession end ; 
Hope that hath naught of earth in it, to crumble 
I' the grasping. Sister, I know my father ! 
On earth, he has lived in heaven ! Don't fear for him J 
He is the happy man, that is prepared 
To live or die ! 

Adolpha. He will not diei 

Meeta. Speak softly ! 
He is awaked ! It can't be helped. Dear sister, 
Let it not melt thee, should he talk of death. 
For tears are catching things, and nature 's nature, 
Long as it breathes. Let's countenance the calm 
Which his pure spirit keeps. 

Muhldenau. Meeta ! 

Meeta. Here, father. 

Muhldenau. What, both ray children 1 both ! Adolpha,, 
too! i 

Is not this merciful, to have you here ? 
That my last earthward sigh I .am permitted 
To breathe upon your heads in blessing you ? 
What is the time, my Meeta ? How far on 
Is my last day within this prison-house ? 
These walls of clay, in which the spirit's pent, 
That's going back to Him who lodged it here ! 
"Tis nothing else ! How easy, then, to die, 
To him who thinks it so ! What is the time ? 

Meeta. Another day is onward. 

Muhldenau. To that window 
Comes the first beam that's herald of the sun ,: 
"See if there^s sign of the fair messenger, 
Or shall I do 't, my child ? 
Meeta. No, father. 

Rhuldenau. Well, 



70 MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 

How is it ? Is there mark on the horizon — 

A blending as of light with darkness, or 

Something that's plainer ? — tell me, child ! Mine eye 

Is fix'd on day, to which noonday is night ! 

Metta. 'Tis early morning — a dun glow — almost 

A streaks 

Muhldenau. The boundary of yesterday 

Is cross' d some hours. Come hither, both of you. 

Kneel down ! The longest time that man may live 

The lapse of generations of his race, 

The continent entire of time itself 

Bears not proportion to eternity, 

Huge as the fraction of a grain of dew 

Comeasured with the broad unbounded ocean ! 

There is the time of man — his proper time : 

Looking at which, this life is but a gust, 

A puff of breath, that's scarcely felt ere gone ! 

Then comes a calm that lasts. My youngest one, 

Least known, but not less loved — My Meeta 

Meeta. Father, 

Am not I part of both? 

Muhldenau. My noble child ! 
My Christian-trained child ! I did thee wrong 

To fear exception thou might'st take at that 
Which made my children equal. My found one ! 
My blessings on the full as upon her 
Was never from my side. Join hands with her ! 
Love her for ever ! as thyself. Two hearts 
1 That join in truth, do make a wall of rock 
'Gainst which the surges of the world may lash, 
But only break themselves. 
Adolpha. I hear a noise ! 

'Tis 

Meeta. Sister, peace. What heeds a noise ? 
Muhldenau. I think 
I heard it too : and understand it ; but 
Whate'er it is, it matters not to me. 
I see — the light comes on. Meeta, my child, 
Thy father gives thee thanks for hours and hours 
Of happiness. You have let fall her hand — 
Take it again — never let go the love 
That now doth join thy sister's hand to thine ! 
And take thy father's blessing, free and full, 
Which Heaven attests that thou hast merited, 
Who never wast but dutiful to me ! [Noises nearer, 



MAID OF MARIENDORPT. 71 

Adolpha. Hear you the sounds again, and louder ? 

Meeta. Peace ! 
Dear sister, if it is to come, it will. 

[Noises again, and nearer yet. 

Muhldenau. What, Meeta ? These are not accustomed 
sounds. 
There is a shining- something in thine eye, 
That looks like hope — and thine, my other child ! 
My children ! is there hope ? I'm human still ! 
I'll live for you, my children. (Noises again,) Those are 

shouts. 
They move not with such sounds, who come to see 
The spectacle of an untimely death-— 
For human nature, howsoever wild, 
Is human still. [Noise very loud, as of a general attack, 

Meeta. Yes, father, there is hope ! 

Enter Lieutenant. 

What come you for ? 

Lieutenant. The prisoner. 

Meeta. For what ? 

Lieutenant. To place him in securer keeping. 

Meeta. Hence! 
He's in his children's arms — or leave him here, 
Or take us all together. 

(Shouts and reports of musquetry and cannon.) 

Enter Sol&ier. 

Soldier. You are called for. [ To Lieutenant. 

To look to our defence ! They come upon us 
A thousand men to one — the castle's lost! 

Adolpha. He's saved — 

Meeta. Not yet! 

(Noise as of something giving way and falling.) 

Adolpha. Hear you? — They burst the gates ! 

Meeta. It may be something else. 

Muhldenau. Ah, now to die — 

[Noise as of people aseending. 
Were pain! 

Adolpha. The rush of steps ! 

Rupert, (without.) Burst in the door. 

Meeta. 'Tis Rupert's voice — My father's saved — He- lives! 

Rupert, (bursting in with others.) My Meeta! honoured 
father ! — we have come 
With life and liberty ! 



YA 



MAID OF MARIENDORP'S- 



Meeta. We thank you, Rupert ! 
Rupert, I knew you would not let him die ! 
How far is Prague your own ? 

Rupert. This quarter, Meeta, 
Which yet commands the rest ! This post was long 
Our General's aim ; yet so he doubtful kept 
His eagle hovering, the mighty pounce 
Your strait accelerated, none could guess, 
Until his fated quarry felt him down ! 

Meeta. Send trusty friends, and strong, along with me;. 
Speak not, but let thy answer be the act 

Rupert. Dismiss your care ! It is not needed, Meeta. 
The faithful Hebrew met me in advancing, 
And took in charge a chosen band, to watch 
Success, and bring thy friends to thee : by this 
I doubt not they are here — 

Enter Joseph — conducting General Kleiner and 
Idenstein. 
The Governor ? 

General Kleiner. Yes, Sir, — but not your prisoners — 
that honour 
These ladies claim. 

Adolpha. Forgive us, father ! 

General Kleiner. What ! 
Now thou hast found thy father ? 

Adolpha. Father still ! 

Muhldenan. Give me the Hebrew's hand — the Christian's 
friend — 
His elder brother, tho' with difference. 

Joseph. All men should thus be brothers. 

Hans. We shall have 
Our honeymoon at last. 

Esther. Be silent, Hans. 

Meeta. Let all be silent, save the greatful hearts, 
That speak in humble confidence to you! 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




END. 



014 494 936 5 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




014 494 936 5 



